A rumble in distance mechanical whine
|
So our lights can shine scrape off the epidermis
|
Robbing pillars equivalent to graves
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Tear down the walls faces ripped from their jaws
|
Black damp inhalers
|
We incarcerate ourselves in clay filled veins
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The hollow drain which echoes our pain
|
Their is no sweeter sound
|
Than the song of a dead canary
|
|
Sin Remover
|
|
Burn away slag
|
We bare silicosis the fruits of our perseverance
|
Bleeder entries are packed with intestines
|
Holds back the dream till it discharges like a gun
|
|
Sin Remover
|
|
I am the Zion...
|
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Extract our blood
|
We bleed of black
|
Reclamation
|
|
Shapes the face to a graven image
|
|
See the lies
|
We mend our seams
|
As days go by
|
|
On wounded knees I see you pray for me
|
|
-----------------
|
Sin Remover
|
| Byzantine |
