Sin Remover - Byzantine

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