A Residual Haunting - Byzantine

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…