Lyric

[Verse 1]

Mother Teresa got a bone obsession

More corpses counted than a Jones confession

Saint with a scent of the death procession

That Peace Prize? Baby, that’s regression

She stackin’ skulls in a holy cabinet

Bloodstains blessin’ her sacrament

Halo tight like a noose in silence

Mercy masked in martyr's violence

[Hook]

Homeless kings and sidewalk saints

Take your flowers, cash your thanks

You clear the ward for the rich deranged

No waitlist now for the padded cage

Moonwalkers starvin', no welfare plate

Just Special Aid cake for the hunger state

Uncle Sam throwin’ thank-you signs

While your sunken cheeks make orphans shine

[Verse 2]

Gandhi wrapped prayers like a silk noose tight

Tried to choke light with a solar rite

Sun said, “I’m out,” planet dimmed overnight

Now we spray on Dark Fantasy like it’s alright

Pacifist scripts in a violent font

A billion ghosts in a whisper haunt

Heard salvation costs your breath

Now we meditate in manufactured death

[Hook]

Homeless prophets, alley priests

Come get paid for your missing teeth

Make way for the suit-and-scream elite

Who need soft cells and designer sheets

Saints of cement, here's your badge

You saved the State from its welfare crash

So the kid in famine, no shoes, no plate

Can twinkle for the camera—ain’t that great?

[Verse 3]

System clock got vampire gears

Three-month cycle for the branded fears

Beds on hold for the crown’s collapse

Silk-born minds that break from naps

They can’t stand wards where the madness grows

Need five-star hells with scented pillows

Feastin' on fear, ghost-flavored snacks

While we get exiled to concrete cracks

[Hook]

Homeless lords of the asphalt realm

Take your token, take the helm

You make space so the kings can cry

In marble rooms where screams don’t die

Invisible prophets, ghosts in skin

Here's your grant for never gettin’ in

Your absence fuels the nation’s pride

While the starving sparkle, dead inside

[Outro - Spoken Over Beat Drop]

They crown the clean insane

Leave the dirty divine outside in rain

And we?

We write scriptures in the gutter’s breath

Sing hymns to the silence beneath their wealth