Crank the ratchet slowly to measure our inequitiesnEach bone that breaks reveals a new point of stress to menA catalyst of suicide, a wound to be dressednQuiet on the set, your death has taken its turn to be in progressnnSqueeze the hammer slowly to bury our honestynA song for dying swans reveals a path to menA catalyst of suicide, a wound to infectnOur death will be appreciated, swollen tongue forevernnLaced with vitriolnChoking on the residue we leavennIt's time to roll the bonesnYour end I must advisenWith confidence I sinnFalse grieving now beginsnBelittles your demisenIn minutes just a memory of faded apparitionsnn(spoken)nThese are the final words that will be penned from menAs empires rise, they do just fallnAnd history shall forever repeatnSo now I dig deep into my black beating heartnAnd with open arms welcome you to oblivion...