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 Sin Remover Burn away slag We bare silicosis the fruits of our perseverance Bleeder entries are packed with intestines Holds back the dream till its discharges like a gun Sin Remover Sin Remover I am the Zion I am the Zion Extract our blood We bleed of black Reclamation shapes the face to a graven image See the lines We mend our seams As days go by On wounded knees I see you pray for me