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