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