Crank the ratchet slowly to measure our inequities Each bone that breaks reveal a new point of stress to me A catalyst of suicide, a wound to be dressed Quiet on the set, your death has taken its turn to be in progress Squeeze the hammer slowly to bury our honesty A song for dying swans reveals a path for me A catalyst of suicide, a wound to infect Our death will be appreciated, swollen tongue forever Laced with vitriol Choking on the residue we leave It's time to roll the bones Your end I must advise with confidence I sin False grieving now begins Belittles your demise in minutes just a memory of faded apparitions These are the final words that will be penned from me As empires rise, they do just fall and history shall forever repeat So now I dig deep into my black beating heart And with open arms welcome you to oblivion...