A rumble in distance mechanical whine So our lights can shine scrape off the epidermis Robbing pillars equivalent to graves Tear down the walls faces ripped from their jaws Black damp inhalers We incarcerate ourselves in clay filled veins 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...
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
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