BIRTHRIGHT'S BEAT-IT-TUDES | MORE MUSIC ON ITS WAY| FOLLOW TO GET MORE!

[Verse 1]
Paycheck math, pantry’s half, potholes map the avenue,
Pastor’s laughing—nah, he’s patching leaks with gratitude.
Grocery line, coupon grind, prices doing calisthenics,
Neighbor short on rent; we split the cents like sympathetic metrics.
Faith ain’t flex—more like fixing sinks and fences bent,
Less incense, more incense—smell the chili at the church event.
“Love your neighbor” basic labor, daily table etiquette,
Not a post, it’s pulling coats on cold nights—that’s the predicate.
Micah with the metrics, justice in the measurement,
Mercy in the medicine, humility the regimen.
Christ walks blocks—not clout, no camera crew—
Just a pair of sandals, and a plan to stand with you.

[Hook]
Keep it plain, keep it kind, keep receipts not vibes,
Make the line shorter, pour more for the lives outside.
Talk less crown, more ground where the real ones meet,
If the truth’s in your feet, let your shoes go preach.

[Verse 2]
Beatitudes are blueprints, not bumper-sticker banter,
Peace talks start in kitchens with a pot and proper manners.
Samaritan arithmetic: subtract the distance, add a hand,
Carry weight in silence—let the kindness make the brand.
Prayer’s not a parachute you pull once the engine quits,
It’s tune-ups, tire checks, and breakfast for the second shift.
If you quote the Kingdom, cool—now show me how the ledger reads:
Hungry ate? Stranger safe? Sick seen? Those are better creeds.
I tithe my time like microloans, interest-free and local-grown,
Faith is where the light gets shown, not just where the mic gets shown.
Cross-shaped compass: down to serve, up in grace,
Left the ninety-nine to find the one—then saved a place.

[Hook/Outro]
Keep it plain, keep it kind, keep receipts not vibes,
Make the line shorter, pour more for the lives outside.
Talk less crown, more ground where the real ones meet,
If the truth’s in your feet, let your shoes go preach.

BEAT-IT-TUDES

OBITZ FOR THE HOMIE

[Verse 1]
Sirens slice the silence...chalk-lines, caution tape in cursive,
Lockers line a gauntlet; lockdown drills rehearse the worst hits.
Pencil-case panic, backpacks braced with plates...perverse twist,
Classroom turned to catacomb, algebra drowned in burst clips.
Hall pass, heart rate...heartbeat metronome of terror,
Teachers turning tables, telling kids to hide behind a mirror.
Metal god in morning news, worshiped like it’s sacred,
But safety isn’t mythic steel...it’s neighbors brave and gracious.
Bullet points in talking points...profits in the margins,
Mouths that praise “protection” while the playground’s planting gardens.
Every desk deserves to dream...not duck beneath a desk;
Every kid deserves a future, not a hashtag, not a vest.
If courage means we care enough to change the culture’s chorus,
Then chorus us with “never again” till every law and heart enforce it.

[Verse 2]
Clickbait cannons aim for rage...engagement rate’s the regiment,
Echo chambers chamber rounds, the algorithm’s negligent.
Cold steel sold as soul-salve...old lie in a modern frame,
“Good guy with a…” cliché looped to launder blame.
Statues for the hardware, statuesque the hardened hearts,
We barter empathy for clout...then count the shattered parts.
Schoolyards shouldn’t read like war reports or weather maps,
Storm fronts named for cities, grieving towns in tethered caps.
This isn’t left or right...this is life or loss of light;
Keep your slogans holstered...let the children live their nights.
Policy without apology for lives that never started;
Practice peace like muscle memory, medics for the broken-hearted.
If freedom’s not a funeral, define it with a shield of care;
Make the right to live the law we swear to everywhere.

[Verse 3]
Conflict-class clinicians, counselors in corridors,
De-escalation education...give the youth a broader door.
Safe homes, safe storage, signals seen before they spark,
Mentors, art, and midnight gyms to keep them from the dark.
We don’t need martyrs made of minors, uniforms of grief;
We need leaders, teachers, neighbors stitching seams beneath belief.
Change the calculus: calculus returns to chalk and cheer,
Not tactical vernacular or tactical veneer.
Every town a sanctuary, every campus sanctuary,
Measure strength in mercy, make protection mandatory.
We won’t normalize the nightmare, won’t memorialize a gun;
We will humanize the hallways till the running’s finally done.
Let tomorrow ring with laughter, let the textbooks be the news;
Let the first day trump the worst day...life is what we choose.

[Outro]
Lockers click like lullabies, not latches on a tomb,
Classroom windows full of daylight, not a shadow in the room.
Write a future in the margins where the children sign their names;
Turn the page...turn down the barrels...let the bell reclaim its claim.

OBITZ

A song about addictions:

[Verse 1 – Toxic Online]
Timeline tyrants with the tap-sword, slash for dopamine,
Dogpile doctrine, outrage auction, algorithm’s golden spleen.
Click-cult catechisms...“ratio’d,” “wrecked”...that rolling guillotine,
Empathy embargoed, bots applaud the cruelest in-between.
Threadbare truth in threads of lies, sewn tight with spiteful stitches,
Influencer incense...smoke and mirrors, clouding wicked wishes.
Virality’s a virus, whisper-weapon, weaponized at scale,
Echo-chambers echo shame, then sell you shame in retail.
Screens glow like censers, pixels hiss...incitement in the mist,
Paranoia pistons pump, the platform profits off your fist.
We meme the meek, we farm the weak, we doomscroll fear for fun,
Trolls patrol patrols of souls until compassion comes undone.
I watched the world go wildfire-hot in comment section spark,
And learned a heart can decompose inside a box that calls itself a “park.”

[Verse 2 – Toxic Church]
Sanctuary stagecraft, brand-new saints in branded tees,
Handshake high-tier, back-row ghosted, tithe their dignity.
Gossip as a gospel, prayer chain twisted into noose,
Mercy meter set to zero, holiness reduced to juice.
Pharisee performance...clean chalice, dirty springs,
Politics in pulpits...kingdom co-opted for lesser kings.
Neon-risen billboards, cross as logo, grace on lease,
While least-of-these are least invited to the table-piece.
Hymns hum harmony, but harm hums in the hallway hush,
Where prodigals are measured by attendance and a proper hush.
I’ve seen a sheep get cut by shears that never learned to heal,
Saw sinners turned to “projects” for a post and not a meal.
If Jesus flipped those tables, would we cancel Him for mess?
Or call it “bad for optics” while we monetize the bless?
This isn’t hate...it’s hospice care for hearts our slogans break,
The truth is antiseptic; let it cleanse the spoiled cake.

[Verse 3 – Toxic Family]
Dinner plates like landmines...eye-rolls, silent detonations,
History hoarded, weaponized, inheritance of accusations.
Apologies on credit, pay with interest made of pride,
Hugs that feel like handcuffs, promises that split the sides.
Gaslights flicker, kitchen’s colder than the winter in the walls,
Name-calling in code...“just jokes”...but the echo never falls.
Favorites crowned, scapegoats drowned, we learn to live in fables,
Call it love, but it’s a ledger...debts recorded under tables.
Cycles spin...darling daggers, sugar daggers, brittle charm,
Boundaries seen as treason, or as proof you mean them harm.
And I was both the wounded and the wounder in the war,
I brought my broken compass to the ones I said I’d care for.

[Verse 4 – Hope / Jesus’ Love]
Then Love walked in unarmored, with a scar-stitched, open palm,
A whisper made of thunder: “Peace, be still”...and then the calm.
Not a hashtag holiness, not optics for applause,
But nails that paid my ransom and a mercy without clause.
He knelt beside the rubble I had labeled “who I am,”
He sifted out the shards and spelled my name without the sham.
Beatitudes for bruises, living water for the drought,
A yoke that fits like freedom, cast the condemnation out.
He set a table, poured a cup, invited enemies,
Said, “Leave your swords; bring open hearts and bring your injuries.”
He taught me how to log off rage and log into the real,
How truth with love is surgery, and wounds with grace can heal.
Now church becomes a refuge, not a showroom, not a brand...
A triage for the tired where the least can take His hand.
Family learns repentance as a fluent, daily tongue,
We break the cycles at the cross; the future starts among
The ones we used to other...now we call ‘em neighbor, kin;
We build a house of light with all the bricks we once threw in.

TOXIC

[Verse 1]
Clatter of sabers in pews...news crews cue the halo spin,
Label the table of truth as “treason,” they staple sin.
Paper-thin faith with a flag stitched in, grafted on grace like a plastic grin,
Asking Him, “Sanction my fences,” when gospel says, “Gather them, let ’em in.”
Massive grin, masks and hymns, cash in tins...Mammon in sacristy;
Passing the plate to the palace while pallets of rations lack dignity.
“Blessed are meek” gets muted when market moods demand dividends;
Citizens sip a cinnamon spin, while venom invents their dividends.
I’m flipping the diction like benches in temples...rhyme as a remnant revolt;
Not militant, but vigilant...pry the lie from the cult of control.
No idol patrols, no rifle patrols in the soul’s cathedral aisle;
Our creed isn’t greed...plant seed, meet need, bleed speed to reconcile.
Beatitudes blaze like braille for the blind...the signs are tactile truth;
If power preys, then praise is a cage; if love’s alive, it cracks the roof.
Church of the new millennium’s medicine...mercy is militant tenderness;
Heaven is present in evidence: strangers embraced, not fenced as a threat to us.

[Hook]
No crowns for conquerors, only towels and basins,
No thrones for oligarchs inside sacred spaces.
If faith is a fortress, the poor can’t face it;
If love is the law, then the law must grace it.
We tear down the altars of nation-as-deity,
Break bread with the broken, betray false divinity.
Truth isn’t partisan...truth is proximity:
Hold the least close and the King shows His dignity.

[Verse 2]
Pseudo-prophets funnel fear into funnels of funding and power,
Thunder and gunmetal prayers, but the Son settles storms by a flower.
Hour by hour, the algorithm baptizes bias in bite-size clips;
Whitewashed tombs with like-count perfume...hype-house doom in righteous drips.
Pedigree pageants of purity nagging the widow’s mite;
Politic pulpits that weaponize scripture and privatize living light.
Listen...the mission’s not tribal admission to kingdoms of gated lawns;
It’s tables of fishes and loaves, it’s coats when the night is raw.
Make peace? That’s treason to tyrants who diet on deified flags;
We kneel to a suffering King, not emperors dressing in drag.
If borders define your belonging, your gospel is smaller than God;
We cross every line with a lifeline...neighbor is name, not a nod.
Bitter rhetoric fizzles when literal miracles multiply meals;
Give up the myth of dominion...domesticate steel into yield.
Faith is a furnace for fear, refine it to courage and care;
If your revival’s survival of strongest, the Spirit is not in the air.

[Verse 3]
Call me a pacifist pugilist...punchlines pummel the principalities;
Uppercut comfort, confront the corrupt, love’s knuckles in legalities.
Rhythm and remedy, liturgy’s energy...centuries crush in a bar,
Wherever a child gets a blanket and meal, that’s the flag that we are.
I’m threading a needle through steeples, unseating deceitfully seated elites;
The Kingdom advances by kindness...no boots on throats, but sandals on streets.
If truth gets censored by sponsors, then prophets repaint the wall;
Graffiti of grace on the gate...“Let every lost be found and called.”
Cathedrals collapse if they balance on violence...stone can’t shoulder lies;
The only foundation unshaken is love cruciform and alive.
So sing it in 4/4 fury, sermon in snare and kick:
No nation can own salvation...the cross already did.

KING SHOWS HIS DIGNITY

[Verse 1]
Pledge to parchment, not to person...oath is ironclad, not idol,
No revisionist dominion draped in hymnals round a rifle.
Wall between the steeple and the state is mortar-level true,
“Congress shall make no law”...read the clause, respect the pew.
Fusion of cross with the crosshairs? That’s a counterfeit communion;
Gospel turned to garrison is tyranny in union.
Keep the credos free to flourish...private faith, public fairness;
Law is blind to sect and scepter, scales of justice spare us.
Dogma’s not a docket...legislature isn’t liturgy;
Policy by pulpit makes a prison out of liberty.
We the People set the ceiling: checks and balances, not kings;
Paper shields and steel of will...separate powers clip the wings.
Authoritarians audition...constitution cuts the mic;
No anointed autocrats, just arguments and rights.

[Hook]
Keep the cross out of Congress, keep the state out of pews,
Keep the crown off the conscience, keep the press free to choose.
Keep the courtroom impartial, keep the ballot the blade,
Our Constitution’s the covenant that keeps us unafraid.
No dictators in the docket, no fascists in the frame...
Due process, equal protection...declare our day.

[Verse 2]
Fourteenth ink...born on the soil, citizen from first breath (
Diplomatic carve-out carved, but the rest? That’s settled text).
Equal protection, due process...double helix in the law;
Government must justify before it ever lifts a paw.
Sixth Amendment in the stanza...speedy, public, jury peers;
Counsel by your side when the state draws near.
Fifth says silence is a right, not a crime in need of proof;
Hay-bee-uss keeps the body safe...bring the cause, cut the noose.
No star-spangled sacrament to sanctify a purge;
If power tries to play messiah, courts will counter, rights will surge.
You can preach in every chapel, you can vote with every heart,
But the state can’t crown your scripture nor redact another’s part.
That’s the firewall for all of us...belief and unbelief,
Common law of common ground, relief from zealot grief.

[Hook]
Keep the cross out of Congress, keep the state out of pews,
Keep the crown off the conscience, keep the press free to choose.
Keep the courtroom impartial, keep the ballot the blade,
Our Constitution’s the covenant that keeps us unafraid.
No dictators in the docket, no fascists in the frame...
Due process, equal protection...declare our day.

[Bridge]
“We the People”...not “we the prince,” not “we the party line,”
Union forged in quarrel, freedom tempered by design.
Rights retained, powers enumerated, federalism balanced weight;
Liberty is litigated...never legislated by a faith.

[Verse 3]
Thirteenth thunder: chains sundered...no more markets for a man;
Any creed that courts captivity collides with this command.
Bill of Rights is not a buffet for the strong to pick and choose;
Press, petition, speech, assembly...guard the tools we use.
Independent courts and counters...legislature writes, exec applies;
Judicial light reviews the line when overreach arrives.
No emergency enthrones a Caesar, no crusader gets a badge;
Public office serves the charter...swear to that, not to a flag.
Christian nationalist nostalgia tries to weld the church to state;
But Caesar can’t be christened...keep the wedding separate.
Render faith to God in freedom, render law to all in kind;
When the two are fused for power, justice staggers, truth goes blind.
Civic covenant protects the pulpit from the throne’s demand...
That’s how both stay holy: open hearts and open hand.

[Outro]
So let the parchment be the armor, let the people be the proof,
Let the courtroom be the candle when the storm eclipses truth.
No savior in a strongman...only safeguards in a clause;
Keep the state from wearing scripture, keep the church from writing laws.
Trial by jury, birthright standing, rights that none can confiscate...
Constitution as the compass, keeping tyrants from the gate.

NO KINGZ

[Verse 1]
Card-swipe catechism...Mammon’s got a sales pitch slick,
“Buy joy, why toil?”...Christ smiles: “Hearts track where your treasure sits.”
Wallet’s a weather vane...see it swing when storms hit,
Store up better gains where rust and moths can’t forfeit.
Two masters? Password clash...one locks when one logs in,
Pick a Lord, not a lordship...don’t dock your soul for dividends.
Birds don’t budget spreadsheets, lilies don’t invoice sun,
Yet the Father outfits fields...so why panic over crumbs?
I’m flipping piggy banks into mercy banks and pantry plans,
Parables paid in daily bread, not vanity brands.
If profit’s the prophet you trust, you’ll miss the promise at dusk,
Kingdom math: give and it multiplies...watch scarcity bust.
We don’t tithe to our ego...tip grace, not greed’s espresso shot,
Keep receipts on kindness; heaven audits what the markets do not.

[Hook]
You can’t serve two masters, choose who’s steering the ship,
Either Mammon’s got the wheel or Messiah’s on the trip.
Where your treasure parks, that’s where your heart will live...
So I park mine with the poor and watch the interest give.

[Verse 2]
Needle-eye audit...gold-laced camels stuck in customs,
Rich young ruler ran the numbers, but love cut through assumptions.
“Sell it, share it, follow”...not a slogan, it’s a surgery,
Hands unclutch the glitter or they never learn the liturgy.
Zacchaeus hit the ledger...half to poor, then fourfold back,
He met grace, and debt erased like chalk after a stormy splash.
Widow’s mite might look light, but Christ called it heavy stock,
She gave out of living, not leftovers from leveled flocks.
Coin in the fish-mouth...provision isn’t superstition,
It’s God in the margins, meeting rent with precision.
If money’s a tool, build tables, not pedestals,
Flip them when they fence out the hungry and the destitute.

[Hook]
You can’t serve two masters, choose who’s steering the ship,
Either Mammon’s got the wheel or Messiah’s on the trip.
Where your treasure parks, that’s where your heart will live...
So I park mine with the poor and watch the interest give.

[Bridge]
Render Caesar Caesar’s...fine, stamp back his minted face,
But render God what bears His image...us, in love and grace.
Give secretly, not theatrics...quiet hands, loud hope,
Let generosity be gravity, pulling neighbors up the slope.

[Verse 3]
Sermon on the Savings...first seek Kingdom, then the add-ons,
Blessed are the broke-in-spirit; heaven keeps the lights on.
Ban the anxious ticker tape, let faith set the closing bell,
Trade panic for daily bread; tomorrow’s got its own to tell.
If barns burst bigger, but the soul shrinks smaller,
Heaven calls the margin call...“Fool, what’s left to barter?”
Break bread, not people; break chains, not budgets,
Cash can carry kindness if the conscience really trusts it.
I hedge funds in neighbors, diversify in dinners,
Invest in forgiveness...compound grace for sinners.
When I’m gone, let the ledger read: debts cleared, wounds tended,
ROI in resurrection...balance sheet ascended.

[Hook/Outro]
You can’t serve two masters, choose who’s steering the ship,
Either Mammon’s got the wheel or Messiah’s on the trip.
Where your treasure parks, that’s where your heart will live...
So I park mine with the poor and watch the interest give.

UNCLE

[Verse 1]
Nazareth math...good news, bad odds, balance it,
Scroll crackles, “Spirit on me”...callous fists challenged quick.
Prison doors...hinges hiss, sin-taxed citizens,
Sight for the night-worn eyes, light stitching fissures in.
Jubilee drumline, debt-letters shredded up,
Poverty’s levee breaks...heaven says “Let it up.”
I’m toe-tapping serpents of surplus that strangle wheat,
Sabbath for the land and the hands with the tangled feet.
If empire’s choir hires liars to brand the meek,
Then Zion’s choir rewires wires...unhand the weak.
Kingdom calculus flips status like sandals tossed,
Oil on foreheads, tables extended...no “standard cost.”

[Hook]
Blessed ain’t the brass but the broken hearts,
Blessed is the mercy that can mend our parts.
Blessed are the peacemakers...build, not boast,
If love is the law, then the least are host.
Hands to the plow, no crown for greed,
Bread for the hungry, that’s sacred creed.
If truth is a lamp, let it burn the lies,
We walk by the Word, not the war drum’s guise.

[Verse 2]
Table-talk tactics...taxmen and traitors seated in,
Bread split, sinners grinned, grace didn’t vet for median.
Pharisee glare: “How dare you share with them?”
He said, “Sick need a doctor”...I’m there with them.
Stones drop...shock-waves stop in adulterous alleys,
Dust-writ verdicts flip the balance of malice.
Fisherman net-mends, next mend is neighborhood,
Faith with a face, not a flag, doing neighbor-good.
Salt of the earth, y’all...savor against the rot,
Light on a hill, not a spotlight for clout you got.
Feet wash, seat swap, top drop to lift the low...
Cross-shaped governance: give what you’ve been given, bro.

[Hook]
Blessed ain’t the brass but the broken hearts,
Blessed is the mercy that can mend our parts.
Blessed are the peacemakers...build, not boast,
If love is the law, then the least are host.
Hands to the plow, no crown for greed,
Bread for the hungry, that’s sacred creed.
If truth is a lamp, let it burn the lies,
We walk by the Word, not the war drum’s guise.

[Verse 3]
Audit of nations...“When I was hungry, did you feed?”
Cold steel policies or warm loaves meeting need?
Stranger at the border...did the door hinge welcome in?
Or bar the image of God with a grin and a welded pin?
Naked...did you clothe? Sick...did you visit?
Prisons...did you show up, speak hope, stand, pivot?
Wolves wear wool, but the fruit finally tells the tree,
By love they’ll know your name...no badge, just empathy.
Take up your cross, not a cause for applause in lights,
Lose life to save it...grain falls, then the harvest bites.
Resurrection economics: seeds die, cities live,
Forgive seven times seventy...count and still forgive.

[Bridge]
Beat swords into trowels, write peace in the soil,
Make justice a stream, not a foil for the royal.
Our anthem is a psalm, not a party line,
Our King wore thorns so the poor could dine.

[Hook/Outro]
Blessed ain’t the brass but the broken hearts,
Blessed is the mercy that can mend our parts.
Blessed are the peacemakers...build, not boast,
If love is the law, then the least are host.
Hands to the plow, no crown for greed,
Bread for the hungry, that’s sacred creed.
If truth is a lamp, let it burn the lies,
We walk by the Word, not the war drum’s guise.

SACRED TONE

[Verse 1]
Sunday hush...silver tongues, gold-plated catechism,
Silent as algorithms strip rights with “patriotism.”
Paper-thin faith, thick wallets, sanctified nationalism,
Bibles on the briefing podium...weaponized catechism.
I watched ‘em audit mercy, tithe compassion to the throne,
Cross flipped to a logo, kingdom traded for a loan.
Gospel in the margins, greed engraved in letterhead,
Rights siphoned in the night, “amen” said to terror spread.
“They ain’t after me,” I rationalized my apathy,
Till liberty’s anatomy eroded into atrophy.
Pastors kissing Caesar’s ring, pledging fealty to Mammon,
Whip-of-cords conviction dulled to plush, compliant satin.
Tables never turned ‘cause I was seated, full and fed,
Feeding fear the Eucharist, faith famished, underfed.
Now the wolves wear wool and read Romans as a muzzle,
I kept quiet...silence inked my signature to the puzzle.

[Hook]
I stayed still while they boxed your voice,
Muted mine...now I’ve lost my choice.
First they came and I played it coy,
Now they bang on my door...no noise.
Too late...when the floor gave way,
Truth drowned in the flood I let them raise.
Regret’s a chain I forged each day,
Doing nothing till they came my way.

[Verse 2]
I scrolled past the cages, called justice “too divisive,”
Shared peace-sign platitudes, skipped stakes, stayed indecisive.
Pulpit morphed to podium...war slogans in a psalm,
“Blessed are the meek,” we said...then blessed the armored calm.
Be-atitudes as beatdowns, choked out under euphemism,
Liberty in litigations, love lost in legalism.
Micah inked in footnotes...do justice? I deferred it,
Walked humbly? I was comfy...truth hurt, I never heard it.
Neighbors flagged as “others,” wolves mapped ‘em as a threat,
I nodded from the bleachers, hands clean, conscience wet.
Christ flipped the tables; I kept my seat reserved,
Worship became worship of the power I preserved.
Least-of-these were bleeding, I called order “heaven’s plan,”
But heaven won’t endorse a throne that crushes out the man.
My silence made me chaplain to a tyrant’s little kingdom,
I regret the hollow hymns I sang instead of freedom.

[Hook]
I stayed still while they boxed your voice,
Muted mine...now I’ve lost my choice.
First they came and I played it coy,
Now they bang on my door...no noise.
Too late...when the floor gave way,
Truth drowned in the flood I let them raise.
Regret’s a chain I forged each day,
Doing nothing till they came my way.

[Verse 3]
Now I’m done with quiet...repentance isn’t optics,
It’s table-flipping praxis, breaking idolatrous topics.
Feet to the street, not flags to the steeple,
Church as a shelter, not a shareholder for evil.
Beat swords into plowshares...policies into mercy,
Un-ghost the disappeared, reverse the scripted heresy.
Kingdom math: lose life to find it, share power to keep it,
If truth is the seed, then justice is how we reap it.
No more neutral pews...lukewarm burned my tongue,
If freedom’s a fire, faith’s flint in the lung.
“Least-of-these” ledger...balance due, we pay in courage,
Risk the halo, raise the table, let the poor and weary flourish.
I won’t wait for the knock that I taught the door to take,
I’m a chord in the whip...crack idols till they break.
From regret to revolt, from hush to holy thunder,
Love’s law over law-and-order, tearing veils asunder.

APATHY

Hush...heart drum, hum low, head up, eyes closed,
Breathe in (four), hold (four), breathe out, let go.

Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not alone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not a stone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”

[Verse 1 ... Drugs]
Orange bottles, hollow gospel...swallow sorrow, borrow dawn;
Doctor’s script rewrote my plot...knot the pain, the pain moves on.
Numb arithmetic...tick-by-tick, I’m nicked by nicotine;
Powder prayers, a powdered dare...parade of ghosts in vaseline.
Nerve ends nervously pretend...serenity from chemistry;
Center drifts, identity splits...tenement of entropy.
Undertow in undertones, tongue is cotton, clock is glue;
Minutes melt like mints on gums, I chase a taste I can’t renew.
Cheap amends in chewed-up pens...promises in paper cups;
Shake and shake the sacred ache...wake to rake the ashes up.
Streetlight psalms, I cough the calm...counterfeits that counterfeit;
Every high a tiny theft...every theft a deeper pit.
Name above the numbness spoke...“Son, the grave you crave is mine;
Drop the needle, lift the needle...trace the vein to lifeline.”

[Hook]
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not alone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not a stone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”

[Verse 2 ... Abusive Relationship]
Sugar-bruise bouquets...apologies in cellophane;
Honeymoon, monsoon, typhoon...cycle carved in cellophane.
Gaslight chandelier...he spins the ceiling, dims my will;
“Baby, I’ll be better”...letterhead on empty bills.
Doorframe learns my shoulder blades...makeup maps the thunder’s wake;
Calendar of promises...X’s mark the quake’s mistake.
Silhouette of softer words, then shrapnel in a whisper’s coat;
Love-bomb lullabies, then mines beneath the kitchen floor.
Friends say “leave,” my mirror grieves...trauma’s tethered tourniquet;
I stash a bag of papers, cash...freedom’s blueprint, folded wet.
I pray in closets, count the breaths...box-breathe through the aftershock;
Call-by-name the better Name...anchor in a battered dock.
Tonight I hold the line of me...no more shrinking to his needs;
If staying keeps me dying slow, I’ll leave alive to learn to breathe.

[Hook]
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not alone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not a stone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”

[Verse 3 ... Hate-Filled Political Cult]
Chant mill, rage mill...grift shop next to scripture memes;
Algorithm liturgy...catechism cooked in streams.
Uniform euphoria...march-time heart, hard-hat mind;
Slogans welded shut like lids...truth can’t get a draft inside.
Bonfire of the nuance...torches halo hate as hope;
Leaders lap the thunder up, then sell it back in gilded soap.
Echo-militia...mouths salute, souls salute the salesman’s spin;
Oath upon a person’s face...paper guardrails kicked within.
I was one foot in that pit...drumline of the dopamine;
But a better cadence called...“Blessed peacemakers”...clean the scene.
Lay the idol, keep the neighbor...keep your conscience free of crowns;
Raise a hand for mercy’s math...pull the fever numbers down.
Civic faith and sacred faith...separate hands that stitch one quilt;
Love the least, resist the beast...break the trance the serpent built.

[Hook]
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not alone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”
Hmmm...hold, heal, hear: “I’m not a stone.”
Slow...soul flow, say: “I’m coming home.”

[Outro]
Hush...heart drum, hum low, head up, eyes closed,
Breathe in (four), hold (four), breathe out...let go.

YOKED

[Intro]
Name in the lights: Blood Right...by blood, not birth,
By love, not might...watch the Kingdom invert.

[Verse 1]
Mustard-seed manifesto, meek-tech manifesto,
Tables turn...no gavel flex, just basins and the bless-o.
Luke 4 in the lungs, Jubilee in the drum,
Freedom for the captives while the power-drunk go numb.
No flags on the cross, no Mammon in the choir,
Beatitudes the blueprint, grace gasoline the fire.
Render Caesar coins, but render God your breath,
We don’t fear the famine; love multiplies the bread.
Widow’s mite heavy, lilies dressed with ease,
Birds sing “don’t stress”...let anxiety release.
Micah with the metric: do justice, love kind,
Walk humble with the Holy...unchain the mind.

[Hook]
Blood Right...by the cross, not the throne,
By the wash of the feet, not a scepter of stone.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, leave that lie behind...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.
Blood Right...let the poor first dine,
Truth in the street, let the light re-align.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, love will redefine...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.

[Verse 2]
Anti-fascist catechism: mercy over optics,
No photo-op prophets, no jackboots in the tropics.
Healed backs over soundbites, bread lines over headlines,
Sermon on the Mount, not a mount for the deadlines.
Dethrone the paper halo, mend the broken spine,
Mene, tekel on the wall...time’s up for the shrine.
If policy’s a pharaoh, we midwife a new day,
Cross-shaped governance: give what you’ve been given, hey.
Choose one Master...coins can’t steer the soul,
Mammon’s math fails where the loaves get whole.
“Seek first…”...watch panic lose control,
Daily bread breaks bars in the payroll.

[Hook]
Blood Right...by the cross, not the throne,
By the wash of the feet, not a scepter of stone.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, leave that lie behind...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.
Blood Right...let the poor first dine,
Truth in the street, let the light re-align.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, love will redefine...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.

[Verse 3]
Thief at Golgotha: “Remember me”...no résumé,
Paradise promised...grace cut through the haze.
Samaritan first responder...oil, bandage, stay,
Centurion’s word believed, a servant rose that day.
Zacchaeus split the stash...half out, fourfold back,
Bleeding woman touched the hem...dignity intact.
Bartimaeus dropped the coat; sight lit up the track,
“Go and sin no more”...stones fell, hearts cracked.
Acts in action...“all things common,” doors unlocked,
James to the bosses...wages owed, truth stocked.
If enemy is hungry, feed him...overcome with good,
This is how the revolution really moves.

[Bridge]
Great is Your faithfulness...steady in the flood,
Contracts fold; covenant holds...signed in love’s blood.
Neither slave nor free, no more rank and file,
Just one new family at a long, long aisle.
Open hands, open homes, open time:
Heaven’s ROI...every soul aligned.

[Verse 4]
Audit the crown with the Nazarene lens,
Does it lift the least or just flatter its friends?
We won’t swap tyrants; we’ll swap what’s prized...
Power for a towel, pride for the Christ.
Emmaus-type clarity...break bread, eyes wide,
Truth walks beside us in the ordinary stride.
Salt for the rot, light for the night,
Justice like a river cutting stone to right.
Galilee ethic, alleyway praxis,
Love is the tax we gladly practice.
Blood Right steps in, announces the sign:
Mercy is the currency; neighbor is the line.

[Hook/Outro]
Blood Right...by the cross, not the throne,
By the wash of the feet, not a scepter of stone.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, leave that lie behind...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.
Blood Right...let the poor first dine,
Truth in the street, let the light re-align.
We shouldn’t fear scarcity, love will redefine...
We won’t be tamed by this slavery of the mind.
Blood Right...hands up, hearts untied,
Welcome to the table...come and see, come and find.

BLOODRIGHT

...COMING SOON
Hook
Burn the crown, don’t bow down,
Tear the tyrant’s temple down,
Every voice becomes the sound,
Freedom’s fire is battleground.

Verse 1
Built from the rubble, I rumble with iron lungs,
Every syllable’s a bullet, every beat is a gun,
They legislate hate, then parade it as law,
But the mask always cracks when the people see raw,
I’m the fracture in the marble, crack in the seal,
Truth bleeds through the lies they can’t conceal,
From the factory floor to the alley at night,
We forge revolution in the sparks of the fight.

Hook
Burn the crown, don’t bow down,
Tear the tyrant’s temple down,
Every voice becomes the sound,
Freedom’s fire is battleground.

Verse 2
They monetize fear, disguise it as order,
Draw red lines, then profit off borders,
But I cross every line with a pen like a blade,
Every rhyme is a riot, every song’s an arcade,
You can’t pacify rage when the masses awake,
You can’t silence the storm when the levees all break,
So I lace up my lines like boots in the street,
Every verse is resistance, every bar is concrete.

Hook (Reprise)
Burn the crown, don’t bow down,
Tear the tyrant’s temple down,
Every voice becomes the sound,
Freedom’s fire is battleground.

Bridge
Wake up, no waiting, the system is breaking,
The power we’re taking, no time for debating,
No kings, no cages, no thrones to defend,
If justice is silence, then silence must end.

Tag (End)
Crown in ashes.
People rise.

BURN THE CROWN

A song from our forthcoming album "VEILS" on A Bruised Reed records. This song is about abusive partners,

Intro
Low lights, slow sirens, broken plates and prayers
Cold night, soul silent, hope fights through the stares
No rights? Wrong. Heaven writes warrants in the air
Torchlight—truth finds footprints under every chair

Verse
You preach peace, beat fists, scripture on your breath
Kiss cross, twist laws, terror in your step
Thin gloss, thick loss—child hides beneath the bed
God sees, heart bleeds—every secret you’ve fed
You quote love, choke love, holy-tone disguise
Stone-cold, control—fear patrols their eyes
False king, small ring—rage in Sunday clothes
Dark gin, hard grin—wolf scent in the rose
Hands like handcuffs clack on dinner plates
Bruise-blue hymns hum under window drapes
But thunder remembers names the night forgets
And justice loads the dawn with righteous bayonets
You’re not head of the house, you’re a furnace of lies
Heaven’s gavel is heavy—watch the verdict arise

Chorus
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the chains unbind
Every cry is a courtroom light, every tear a sign
Hands that harm will harvest harm—truth will draw the line
For the little ones and beaten ones, refuge is divine
Millstones for the predators, oceans for their pride
Mercy wraps the wounded ones; the Lord is on their side
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the church reply
Justice like a thunderstorm rolling from the sky

Verse
You wave flags, grave rags, politics for pulpits
Spare change, strange pain, doctrine as a culprits’
You call it discipline—God calls it a sin
You claim you’re shepherding—He calls it a pen
Ears ring, fear sings—children learn to flinch
Cheap grace, deep waste—faith reduced to wince
But the text says love your wife like your very breath
Not with weaponized verses or a threat of death
Don’t provoke the child—raise in truth and care
If you can’t guard your own, your faith is thin as air
He hates hands that glow with innocent blood
He breaks yokes, makes oaths, floods abusers’ flood
He’s a refuge for the crushed, a fortress for the bruised
He reclaims every voice that violence tried to lose

Chorus
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the chains unbind
Every cry is a courtroom light, every tear a sign
Hands that harm will harvest harm—truth will draw the line
For the little ones and beaten ones, refuge is divine
Millstones for the predators, oceans for their pride
Mercy wraps the wounded ones; the Lord is on their side
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the church reply
Justice like a thunderstorm rolling from the sky

Bridge
Let justice roll like waters through the living room
Let righteousness like rivers wash the hidden gloom
The widow and the orphan—God is sworn to stand
He hears, He heals, He holds with an open hand
Exodus in footsteps, doors become the sea
Chains fall, faith calls, “Child, you’re coming free”

Chorus
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the chains unbind
Every cry is a courtroom light, every tear a sign
Hands that harm will harvest harm—truth will draw the line
For the little ones and beaten ones, refuge is divine
Millstones for the predators, oceans for their pride
Mercy wraps the wounded ones; the Lord is on their side
No more fists in the Father’s house—let the church reply
Justice like a thunderstorm rolling from the sky

Outro
We lift a lamp, we lock the door on wolves in suits
We shield the lambs, proclaim the Judge who routes the brutes
From ashes into armor, every scar becomes a sign
In the Church of the New Millennium—love’s the battle line

WHITE TANK TOP

A song from our forthcoming album "VEILS" on A Bruised Reed records.
Chorus
Unchain the hymn from the hymnals, make it breathe in the streets,
Anti-fascist, anti-idol—let the meek take the beat.
No empire choir wiretaps the mercy we bring,
Equal image, equal lineage—every heart gets a ring.
Not a wall, not a gallows—just a table and time,
Let the light write the law on every life in the line.

Verse 1
Cold pulpits, gold-gilt motives—ghost oaths in a flag-draped catechism,
Code switches: “vote Christian,” but the quote’s missing love’s activism.
Vast schisms—mass prisons—past isms wrap fascism,
Patch scripture to match fixtures; that’s cash-driven baptisms.
I thread meter with red-letter ethics—no credits for cruel edits,
Rule fetish, tool rhetoric—fear’s anesthetic, school fetish.
They bless ballots like bayonets, playin’ vets against the vagabonds,
Canon-jet canonized cannons—then canonize the Babylon.
I’m anti–idol idolatry, audit the policy, polish the honesty,
Hollow theology falls when the poverty’s calling with prophecy.
Carpenter calculus: parity’s palace is peril to parasites,
Charity’s malice? Nah—charity’s chalice is sharing our daily slice.
Christ-coded, life-loaded—no caste over kin,
If the last get the lift, then the first learn to bend.
I craft inner rhymes like ligatures stitching a limb,
Every line is a lifeline: we’re all equal in Him.

Chorus
Unchain the hymn from the hymnals, make it breathe in the streets,
Anti-fascist, anti-idol—let the meek take the beat.
No empire choir wiretaps the mercy we bring,
Equal image, equal lineage—every heart gets a ring.
Not a wall, not a gallows—just a table and time,
Let the light write the law on every life in the line.

Verse 2
Nation-as-sanctum, sanctified sanctums—sanctions for truth-tellers,
Pews profit on news prophets, tuned to the gloom sellers.
I parse parables out of the marble of marketable sparks,
Turn a sermon to service, turn the bark into larks in the parks.
No throne-bone thrown—stone hearts shown cold? We thaw ‘em with warmth,
Storm norms with a soft form: food, forms, and open-door porches up north.
Metric of ethic: does the rhetoric edit the hungry from headcount?
If yes—bless the exits; if no—let the bread mount.
Grace-driven grit with a bassline bit that bites through the bitter myth,
Razor of Occam in pocket—I’m chopping the toxic and sifting what’s still a gift.
Kingdom as kin-come, in-sum: incomes become in-one,
Sin drum undone when the in-crowd brings the in-shunned.
If the banner bans the broken, then the plan is out of hand;
Real faith flips rank—no thanks to the fear-demand.
I breathe schemes with seam-deep themes—freedom in limb,
Every believer, unbeliever—equal measure of Him.

Bridge
Not a gate, not a grade, not a grade-A sin,
Just a wave when you’re weighed and you wade back in.
If the Name means “room,” make a room that’s wide,
Let the shame fall off like a loose-tied lie.

Drop/Break
Hands up—no salute to the boot or the suit or the fear campaign,
Stand up—let the root of the truth put the proof in the human vein.
Band up—every color, every mother, every other who was shoved aside,
Plan love—let the banner be the manner that we amplify.

Chorus
Unchain the hymn from the hymnals, make it breathe in the streets,
Anti-fascist, anti-idol—let the meek take the beat.
No empire choir wiretaps the mercy we bring,
Equal image, equal lineage—every heart gets a ring.
Not a wall, not a gallows—just a table and time,
Let the light write the law on every life in the line.

Tag/Chant Outro
No throne for the few—just a room for the many,
No crown without care—turn the coffers to plenty.
No fear in the hymn—let the chorus begin,
All equal, all in—every stranger a kin.

Unchained

A song from our forthcoming album "VEILS" on A Bruised Reed records.
Yo, I spit with the tongue of the martyrs, flipped in the furnace of fraud,
Scripture twisted by fascists who fasten the cross to a sword.
Praise in the pews while they poison the poor,
Golden calf in the chapel, capitalism the lord.

I ain’t here for that flag-draped gospel distortion,
Where the pulpit’s a pulpit for corporate extortion.
Blessed are the meek, but they mockin' the humble,
Turnin' sermons to war cries and mercy to muscle.

Eyes wide in the age of surveillance and spin,
Where the halo's a brand, and redemption’s a skin.
They baptized the lies in American pride,
But the Christ that I ride with was never on that side.

They built their heaven on the backs of the broken,
Sold the truth just to keep us hopin’.
But I see through the stained glass lies,
Holy fire still rains from the skies.

You can’t chain what was born to be free,
Can’t drown out what was sung in the deep.
This ain’t grace in a flag-wrapped noose—
It’s war songs dressed in gospel truth.

Barbed-wire parables, borderlines Biblical,
Buildin’ walls with their verses—ain’t nothin' reciprocal.
They scream "kingdom come" while they fund the machine,
And preach love with a muzzle strapped tight to the scream.

I break bread with the rebels, disciples in hoodies,
Turnin’ water to Molotovs, exposin' the goodies.
This is gospel for the hunted, the haunted, the bruised,
Not the rich in the pews with their doctrines abused.

Every beat is a beatitude flipped for the streets,
I don’t speak in tongues, I just speak what they keep.
Yeah, I’m bringin' the heat where they silence the youth,
This the church of the real, this the fire of truth.

They built their heaven on the backs of the broken,
Sold the truth just to keep us hopin’.
But I see through the stained glass lies,
Holy fire still rains from the skies.

You can’t chain what was born to be free,
Can’t drown out what was sung in the deep.
This ain’t grace in a flag-wrapped noose—
It’s war songs dressed in gospel truth.

NO CROSS 4 EMPIRE

A song from our forthcoming album "VEILS" on A Bruised Reed records.
Clock clicks crooked—boss ticks profit, stopwatches choke.
Shop lights strobe; we jog in place through fog and smoke.
Jaw set, jawbroke—card swipes carve our days in spokes.
Ghost pay, gross pay—gods made of code and quotes.

Hands hum metal, pedal pressed—warehouse breath (thin).
Spin shift, skin splits—grit in the grin (grim).
Ledger’s a ladder that’s missing the rungs we climb;
Snack break—back aches—tax takes double the time.
Five lines later we’re lighter by life and rent,
Tightrope budget—knife-edge judgment—cents get bent.
Neon sermon: earn and yearn—turn your hope to “later,”
Carbon copy policy: poverty on a printer.

Count what the contract promised vs. what the contract did;
Add what the system siphoned from every working rib.

Boardroom blooms—golden fumes—elevator shoots to June;
Acreage of zeros in a mirror-pane cocoon.
Down here the numbers numb us—thumbs go blue from swipes;
Surge fees, late fees—quiet guillotines of life.
We built their runways, railways, data veins and dams—
Their cargo flies for free while our kids juggle exams.
They dock the ships in shelters that our taxes brace,
Then dock our checks for “service,” then ghost out to a place—
Where profit never tithes to the roads of its vocation.
Whistle don’t whistle—sweet glaze on sin.
Door keeps revolving—desk name spins,
Rulebook rewrites—fox counts hens.
Headless marble—institutions—statues nod and sleep,
Login oaths—token strokes—promises we couldn’t keep.
Parchment freckles—moth bites—clauses cough in dust,
We kept the pledge; the principals kept the trust.

Who waters the wires? We do.
Who shoulders the fires? We do.
Who paved the lanes your lorries use? We do—
So pay your dues.

Count what the contract promised vs. what the contract did;
Add what the system siphoned from every working rib.

Give back the daylight—raise up the baseline.
No more the brake-line tied to our waistline.
We are not deadlines—we are the lifeline.
Cut loose the redline, rewrite the guideline.

Give back the daylight—raise up the baseline.
No more the brake-line tied to our waistline.
We are not deadlines—we are the lifeline.
Cut loose the redline, rewrite the guideline.

At—least—warmth—
At—least—screens—
At—least—calm—
(—at the cost of dreams.)

I’m done with “at least”—that lease is a velvet shackle;
They’re trading our thunder for thermostats—quiet cattle.
We measure the wealth by the meals that the widows eat,
Not by the yield of a field fenced against city feet.
Co-ops open like windows, wind pours in with bread;
Union drums in the ribcage—raise roofs from the dead.

Give back the daylight—raise up the baseline.
No more the brake-line tied to our waistline.
We are not deadlines—yeah, we’re the lifeline.
Cut loose the redline—rewrite the guideline.

Give back the daylight—raise up the baseline.
No more the brake-line tied to our waistline.
We are not deadlines—we are the lifeline.
Cut loose the redline, rewrite the guideline.

Tick-tock tilts—then stops—

GIVE BACK THE DAYLIGHT

Hook
Stand tall, no pause, no delay,
Tear walls down, fight back, don’t obey,
No crown, no throne, no decay,
Action is the gospel—rise today.

Verse 1
I spit volts in the void, charge lines like a riot squad,
While they profit off the people, play God with a lightning rod,
Systematic fascist tactics dressed in plastic flags,
They draft laws in back halls while the nation drags,
Idle hands breed chains, silence breeds graves,
If you sleep through oppression, you’re diggin’ your own cage,
Wake up, no excuses, truth’s brutal and raw,
Freedom’s not a product—it’s a weapon of war.

Hook
Stand tall, no pause, no delay,
Tear walls down, fight back, don’t obey,
No crown, no throne, no decay,
Action is the gospel—rise today.

Verse 2
Lazy minds get led, fed lies like prescriptions,
Every screen’s a leash, every click a conviction,
They sell comfort like chains, pacify with the feed,
But revolution don’t wait for the ones who concede,
I engrave my resistance in the concrete streets,
Every heartbeat’s percussion, every march repeats,
We the fire in the furnace, the spark in the steel,
When the masses stop sleeping, the machine can’t heal.

Hook
Stand tall, no pause, no delay,
Tear walls down, fight back, don’t obey,
No crown, no throne, no decay,
Action is the gospel—rise today.

Bridge
No more silence, no more screens,
No more kings with broken dreams,
Take what’s ours, reclaim the scene,
Freedom lives in the hands that scream.
Hook
Stand tall, no pause, no delay,
Tear walls down, fight back, don’t obey,
No crown, no throne, no decay,
Action is the gospel—rise today.

Tag (End)
Get up.
Move now.
No chains.
No crown.

IDLE HANDS

[Intro]
Reese growl, steel howl, drop-tuned thunder,
Dark room, low boom, tear the veil asunder.
Glitch spark, kick mark, neon faith unmasked—
Bass like a black river, push the idol to the past.

[Verse 1]
Grave-grid cadence, razor cadence—hat ticks, vein-flicks,
Flag-slick sales pitch—fear-credit, pain-fix.
Rust-bent catechisms—cash-crowned catechresis,
Mammon in the marrow, hawking holiness in pieces.
I don’t pledge a throne of stone to clone our souls in code,
I pledge the loaves and phones that keep the open table owed.
Halftime hammer, trap stagger, boom-bap backbone,
Neuro-sinew, dubstep sine wave carving through the backbone.
Culture cops in collars, call it order—cage the choir;
We torch the script with living water, douse their paper fire.
Multi-rhyme mortar, mortarboards of militant pride—
We drop the drawbridge down for strangers standing outside.
If empire’s algorithm aims to amputate our care,
We jailbreak heaven’s firmware—mercy patches everywhere.

[Pre-Chorus]
Low light, long night—still the heart drums honest,
Bassline covenant—break the counterfeit promise.

[Chorus]
No crown on cash, no chains on breath,
Deep bass bless, we drown out death.
No flag on faith, no throne on trust,
Drop-tuned love shakes gates to dust.
All rise, all free—one beat, one choir,
Neuro-kick, dub-writ, set hearts on fire.
No crown on cash, no chains on breath—
Bass says “live,” we answer “yes.”

[Verse 2]
Riff-chug, grit-lug, iron-lung snare crack,
Cadence cuts through static like a cobalt track.
Brokered halos auctioned off in weekday liturgies,
We counter with a pantry law: bread-based liturgies.
Pocket-polyrhythms: I weave a civic psalm in six,
Then slip to four-on-the-floor—truth lands, sticks.
Binary priests preach “buy or die,” try to brand the dawn,
But sunrise is an open-source—every soul logs on.
These jackboot metaphysics—ego metrics, profit ticks—
We pivot to a kingdom math: healers paid, the hungry picked.
Nu-metal grit in the grit of my teeth,
While the Reese sub wreathes through the grief underneath.
Not a saber but a scalpel in the rhyme scheme’s hand,
Cut the tumor from the budget, let the people stand.

[Breakdown — Halftime]
(Grind)—low, low, low—
(Climb)—soul, soul, soul.
Chug the floor tom, stomp the marrow,
Hands like lanterns, light the narrow.

[Bridge]
If power sells a paradise that only hoards can enter,
We shift the temple’s center—neighbor, table, mentor.
If tyrants ghost the ballot, we will body out the vote,
If law forgets the widow, we will write her name in notes.
Silence in the snare gap—hear the Spirit breathe,
Liberty is born where we unlearn to leave.

[Chorus]
No crown on cash, no chains on breath,
Deep bass bless, we drown out death.
No flag on faith, no throne on trust,
Drop-tuned love shakes gates to dust.
All rise, all free—one beat, one choir,
Neuro-kick, dub-writ, set hearts on fire.
No crown on cash, no chains on breath—
Bass says “live,” we answer “yes.”

[Outro]
Syncopated halo, grayscale rain—
808 benediction on the windowpane.
When the subline speaks, all idols fall—
We tune the room to freedom, welcome all.

LOW LIGHT LONG NIGHT

[Chorus — Halftime]
Lift the signal—windows answering slow, room by room tonight.
Call the crew—set course and cut equal shares; make fairness the standing right.
Print it bold—big type, clear vows, nothing tucked in a thinner line.
Hold the row—back-to-back; no skim on hours, no stolen time.
Badges and seals go quiet when thousands step in time.
Our pledge: water, health, rest, kinship—kept by a public design.

[Verse 1]
Rate cards fade at 2 A.M.—stealth edits with velvet tones,
Turnstiles tally lungfuls—wealth credits on rented bones.
Shift flips, slit-thin splits—pennies get shaved mid-run,
Captcha gates for pay-days, passwords for basic sun.
Headcount “optimized,” overtime atomized, half-life,
Handshakes swapped for task snakes—backbite masked by graphs’ hype.
Pre-load quotas cloaked in “bonus,” bogus carrot math,
Ghost routes, choke throats—throttle the narrow path.
I counter with counterplans—crew panels and posted scales,
Clock logs mirrored offsite—one truth when the power fails.
Kill-codes at the shop floor—pause work when the risk spikes;
Hazards tallied, backpay rallied—ink right, fixed rights.
We bargain in daylight cadence, cadence that can’t be gamed,
One list, one language, one ledger that prints our names.

[Chorus — Halftime]
Lift the signal—windows answering slow, room by room tonight.
Call the crew—set course and cut equal shares; make fairness the standing right.
Print it bold—big type, clear vows, nothing tucked in a thinner line.
Hold the row—back-to-back; no skim on hours, no stolen time.
Badges and seals go quiet when thousands step in time.
Our pledge: water, health, rest, kinship—kept by a public design.

[Verse 2]
Cold radiators whisper rent due in a windburned flat,
Lease code reads like riddles—fees bloom where the commas sat.
Sky-lobbies rise while stairwells die, nightwalk miles long,
Keycards hum for penthouse lifts; ground floors hum old songs.
We cast a charter—renter circles, watch lists, witness notes,
Mold maps, fix lists, time-stamped photos, written votes.
Heat trusts span the blocks—hot mains fed by common tanks,
Storm-room hours posted—check-ins signed with open ranks.
Street trees, sump lanes, flood shelves staged on higher rails,
Tool libraries open—safety gear and borrow nails.
We blueprint homes that hold—quiet walls and steady bills,
Set caps, set spans, set standards—measure the builder’s will.
Not “market magic”—measured habit, contracts you can read,
Shelter isn’t merchandise; it’s baseline human need.

[Chorus — Halftime]
Lift the signal—windows answering slow, room by room tonight.
Call the crew—set course and cut equal shares; make fairness the standing right.
Print it bold—big type, clear vows, nothing tucked in a thinner line.
Hold the row—back-to-back; no skim on hours, no stolen time.
Badges and seals go quiet when thousands step in time.
Our pledge: water, health, rest, kinship—kept by a public design.

[Verse 3]
Newsfeeds seed with smoke—sockpuppets flood the lanes,
Rumor mills spin quotas—facts cuffed in paper chains.
We raise a civic press—minutes posted, sources named,
Open dockets, conflict flags, contracts fairly framed.
Poll-day rides and child-watch—time off written, honored, stamped,
Count boards lit like stadiums—numbers public, tamper-lamped.
Guild sheets for every craft—barbers, welders, coders, crews,
Rates clear, scopes clear—safety clauses none refuse.
Strike chest primed like batteries—kept warm, kept ready near,
Care nets mapped in neighborhoods—no neighbor disappears.
When pressure ratchets, breath collects—one tempo, measured, fine,
We don’t beg for better weather; we become the steel in spine.

[Chorus — Halftime]
Lift the signal—windows answering slow, room by room tonight.
Call the crew—set course and cut equal shares; make fairness the standing right.
Print it bold—big type, clear vows, nothing tucked in a thinner line.
Hold the row—back-to-back; no skim on hours, no stolen time.
Badges and seals go 

Call the Crew

[Intro Chorus]
Lights on—come inside.
Warm hands—open wide.
Make room—save a life.
Love leads—we align.

[Verse 1]
Woe to the mint-weighers, widow-weighted ledgers,
Marble foyers, fog machines—faith staged for investors.
Blessings bled to branding, famine fed to metrics,
Statues in the narthex, hearts cold—pathetic.
You stack barns higher, hire guards for the granary,
Gate codes glow while the graveyard’s clamoring.
Camel at the keyhole, wallets won’t flatten—
You widen every phylactery, deny what matters.
You preach “order,” hoard it, border every kitchen,
While Lazarus at the latch hears laughter and derision.
Your gospel’s a gasket—pressure seals your privilege;
Ours breaks open baskets—pressure feeds the village.
You tithe dill and mint, but justice—absent,
You pass the broken by—then post a caption.
Tables about to topple—brace for splinters,
He’s not impressed by donors or winter centers.

[Chorus 2]
Give what you have.
Fill every hand.
Stay with the sad.
Stand where they stand.

[Verse 2]
Prophet mode: molten gold molds your catechism,
You kiss the idol’s ankle—call it “patriotism.”
Algorithm altar—anger pumped and monetized,
Sermons sold wholesale, mercy itemized.
You call it “sound doctrine”; I call it soundproofing,
So you can’t hear the sirens or the stomachs moving.
Beatitudes? You muted ‘em, substituted “might,”
But meek ones get the earth—watch the title write.
We ain’t your culture war corps or décor;
We’re floor crews—mop blues, stock drawers, open doors.
We pour broth in a blackout, pass coats in a whiteout,
Pay light bills quiet—pull fear’s fangs right out.
If faith won’t free, it’s theater in a suit,
If love won’t bleed, it’s weeds around the root.
Repent: return the surplus you siphoned from the poor,
Repair: restore the sabbath you sold inside your store.

[Chorus 2]
Give what you have.
Fill every hand.
Stay with the sad.
Stand where they stand.

[Verse 3]
Whitewashed tombs—perfumed debt on a dead face,
You polish goblets, swallow camels—dead faith.
Sheep and goats division isn’t votes or slogans,
It’s coats on shoulders, wounds bound, doors open.
You name “revival”—we name receipts,
Heat in the vents, rice in the streets.
You stage “awakening”—we stay and awaken
Mothers with a mattress, brothers with a haven.
If Caesar needs worship, we answer with shelter;
If Mammon needs worship, we answer with welter—
Of casseroles, cables, chargers, chairs,
A ledger of love; your balance compares.
Final call: drop the bullion, lift the broken,
Trade your brand for a basin, let the vow be spoken.

[Chorus]
Lights on—come inside.
Warm hands—open wide.
Make room—save a life.
Love leads—we align.

[Bridge]
Woe to the grasping—release what you hold.
Blessed the giving—return what you stole.
Justice is bread—divide it, behold.
Mercy is fire—come in from the cold.

[Chorus]
Lights on—come inside.
Warm hands—open wide.
Make room—save a life.
Love leads—we align.

[Chorus]
Lights on—come inside.
Warm hands—open wide.
Make room—save a life.
Love leads—we align.

Prophet Mode

[Verse]
Minimum’s a floor? For the poor it’s a lock and a lanyard,
Pennies in the backseat, cracked soles, pantry’s a planet of scarcity, granular.
Streetlight glitters on grit, we script little victories, manual stamina,
Mama with a hymn in her breath, faith flares like a lantern in canisters.
First shifts, fistfuls of nickels, registers ring but the ribs stay famished up,
Tips drip, rent climbs ivy, timepiece grinding—management vanishes.
Legislators debate, delay—parade platitudes, damage us,
We balance budgets on cuticles, cut loose from ladders they’ve fastened up.
Counting scars on receipts, receipts repeat like stanzas,
Dollar stretched cello-string thin, discordant answers.
Yet we craft from scraps, stitch rations into banners,
Gospel in the margins, marching through the slander.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Verse]
Inflation gnaws like a sawblade, raw blade on hope’s rope,
Groceries ghost from the cart, utilities choke throats.
Loans loom, wage tombs, bones ache from slow growth,
Federal floor frostbit, states lift—still low slope.
But the block shares bread, church pots steam solace,
Choirs ladle courage, prophets preach honest.
We organize clinics, co-ops, ballots like comets,
Policy maps lit up, law-shifts promise.
Strike drums thunder—crumbs? Nah, ovens for all of us,
Hands up, chants up, justice won’t stall with us.
From child-night whispers to rallies at dawn’s cusp,
We flip spreadsheets to seedbeds—watch trust blossom.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Bridge]
God of alleys and lilies, hear the brittle and bleak,
Clothe our labor with plenty, feed the famine of weeks.
If sparrows are cherished, let the factory speak—
Lift the ledger of sorrow, let the hungry eat.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Chorus]
Dreams are tendered when banks won’t lend—we mend, not pretend,
Faith accrues interest, hope compounds without end.
From price-tag chains and paper pains we ascend—
Name untaken, flame unshaken—amen, we transcend.


Empty Pockets

[Verse 1]
Cold code in the corridors—curfews stitched to campus lawns,
Tents turned contraband at ten, freedom’s breath gets yawned;
Stacked shelves padlocked, barcodes crossed like minor crimes,
Silenced spines, the margins fined for telling fuller lines.
Firewalls of ballots flicker—watch the watchmen pull the plug,
“Integrity” in ink that trims the roots but spares the smug;
Scrolls go ghost at midnight—apps exiled without a trial,
Yet whispers ride the copper lines, a thousand secret dials.
Border badges bait the river, nets of rumor drag the shore,
But tides remember federations speak with one, not more.
Threat letters to the clerks—name badges learn to hide,
We pray in lowercase, in stairwells where the cameras slide.
They frame the fear as faithful form, decree it “public good,”
But we ferment quiet courage like a leaven in the wood.
If truth is grain, we mill it slow—no slogans, just the bread,
And feed the nightshift souls the city starves and leaves for dead.

[Hook]
No brand on the bell, no chains on the choir,
We breathe like wells and gather like wires;
If justice is current, let the streetlights hum,
If mercy’s the cadence, let the bassline drum.
No throne for the fear that polices our sight,
We pass the lamp till the alley learns light;
If love is the law that the meek can keep,
We’ll sow in the dark till the fences fall asleep.

[Verse 2]
They tax the syllabus with scissors, black the rainbow from the halls,
But chalk keeps sketching galaxies on sanctioned, sterile walls.
A widow at the counter taps petitions with a ring,
Her knuckles knock the granite till the granite learns to sing.
Overnight, the “open space” becomes a hush between the signs,
But gospel travels side doors—softly, like a spine.
A worker scrubs the voting door where ashes tried to bloom,
She carries keys like canticles and sweeps the rumor’s plume.
If watchlists masquerade as saints and uniforms as truth,
We look for fruit: the healed, the housed, the braver youth.
A sower in a food truck plays a parable with plates,
The mustard-seed is rental aid that widens narrow gates.
A shepherd texts the missing one, the ninety-nine stay kind,
He maps the safest route through blocks where panic blinds.
We speak in parables of sockets, sidewalks, soups, and bail,
So serpents miss the message while the lambs still read the mail.

The vineyard shifts to gig nights—dawn to dusk in borrowed vans
But wages meet the last and first with open, even hands
A banquet text goes missing in the threads of VIP
So ushers set the table on the curb for you and me
New wine needs living leather, not the brittle rules of rage
So we stitch a skin of neighbors, block by block, page by page
A pearl is in the pawn ticket that flips a hostel’s lease
We sell our clout to buy the room where winter learns to cease
A fig tree blooms when budgets move from force to first-aid kits
Our sermons: ventilators, meals, and tenants keeping fits
If shepherds start to count by flags, the flock will learn to fear
We count by wounds that closed and names that reappear
So let the kingdom code deploy in caches of the kind
A hidden cache of casseroles where exile rests the mind
We’ll seed the quiet syntax that the censors cannot parse
Till lampposts learn Hosanna and the night forgets its bars

I won’t wear thunder on my sleeve to walk my neighbor home
I’ll hide the flame in paper cups—enough to warm the bones
If gospel has a blade, it cuts the mask from wounded need
Then tucks it back and hums a hymn the watchers never read

No brand on the bell, no chains on the choir
We breathe like wells and gather like wires
If justice is current, let the streetlights hum
If mercy’s the cadence, let the bassline drum
No throne for the fear that polices our sight
We pass the lamp till the alley learns light
If love is the law that the meek can keep
We’ll sow in the dark till the fences fall asleep

Sow In the Dark

[Verse 1]
Halftime avalanche, sub-bass sacrament, candle-wax cracklin’,
Panel hacks panickin’, scandals stackin’, channels blackin’,
Fundraising flames lick the pledge like a jackal grin,
Email grift—“save the faith”—then they cash it in,
Committee theatrics, scripture as optic, stock tips,
Offshore prophets pocket prophets with the soft pitch,
Culture-war smokescreen cloaks the coke sheen,
Voter-rolls ghosted, maps twisted like a rope swing,
LLC labyrinth, money in a mannequin,
Dark-money monasteries laundering the Vatican,
Filibuster lullabies—hush the public’s alibi,
Oil rig lull, drill bills under alabaster sky,
Court packed porcelain, ethics on a torsion pin,
Gavel’s just a chalice for the chalets they’re absorbin’ in,
Christ said the least of these; they leased the thieves a seat—
We bring receipts to the feast, turn the beast to wheat.

[Hook]
Light up the lie with a choir of voltage,
Breakbread bass—truth buckles their gold bridge,
No throne for greed inside this millennium,
We indict the idols, baptize the pendulum,
Grace like a blade when the drums go militant,
Mercy with a metronome, justice bell-ringin’ it,
Sound the alarm—let the halo hum,
If love is the law, then the payola’s done.

[Verse 2]
Neurofunk grit, boom-bap benediction,
Plug-step thunder undercut the benison,
Prayer-laundered payola—gray donor coronas,
Ghost PACs grafting the graft in personas,
“Family values” while the balance is villainous,
Prosperity gospel with the varnish of innocence,
Smirks in the synod, perks in the Senate—
Perjury verses—check the ledger, they penned it,
Whistle in the rafters, fraud in the chapter,
Flag-as-a-shroud while they gut out the pasture,
Statehouse serpents, sermons on serpentine,
Sanctify the sanction while they siphon the serpentine,
Spin room liturgy, lit with a litany,
Little bit of Latin, then they strip out the dignity,
Mammon in a mitre, law in a muzzle—
We flip the booths truth-first, puzzle by puzzle.

[Bridge]
We don’t curse the flock, we confront the fox,
Repent, repair—tear fear from the locks,
Catechism coded in a kick and snare,
Let the choir say “care”—put the weight on “where.”

[Outro]
808 cathedrals, candles in the drum,
Stone rolled away—watch the idols come undone,
Hands to the sky, feet to the street—run,
Love is the verdict; corruption, overrun.

Break Bread Bass

[Intro]
Night grit, lights split—truth slips through the grid,
We plant what power paved, and raise what fear undid.

[Verse 1]
Civic physics: tyrant’s theorem fails at first condition,
If love’s the leading constant, hate’s an error in the mission.
Author-itarian arithmetic—order built on missing sums,
Subtracts the human dignity, divides the weakest ones.
We audit every axiom they etch on iron gates,
Find circular conclusions in their “destiny of state.”
If might creates what’s right, the proof refutes itself at once:
A rule that needs a rifle isn’t reason, it’s a stunt.
We carry counter-claims in casseroles and common care,
A commons-coded calculus where every share is fair.
Consent is not a checkbox under floodlights, fear, and fines—
Consent requires couches, clinics, kitchens, open lines.
Democracy is dialogue, not dogma dressed in steel;
The table is the theorem and the welcome is the seal.
We test their gospel spreadsheets with the sick and unpaid rent—
If justice isn’t healing, then the law is ill-intent.

[Pre-Chorus]
Quiet math of mercy: add the lost, remove the lash,
Multiply the futures, cancel debts, and split the stash.

All rise, no kings—no chains on the choir,
High tide, whole thing—love lifts, not the liar.
Hands wide, we sing—low bass, street wire,
All rise, no kings—no chains on the choir.
All rise, no kings—no thrones for the higher,
High tide, whole thing—share bread, share fire.
Hands wide, we sing—one beat, one briar,
All rise, no kings—no chains on the choir.

[Verse 2]
Colonizer logic wears a ledger like a halo ring,
Extracts the earth, then bills the earth for daring not to sing.
Supply chains with a hospice at the end of every lane,
If profit means a famine, then the product is our pain.
They mint a “market freedom” that evicts the village well,
Then sell the water back and brand the thirst as “discipline.”
But stewardship is science with a Sabbath in its bones,
Repairing what was ravaged, planting justice in the zones.
We jury-rig a jubilee with grocery-line relief,
Where wages meet the mornings like a balm for busted teeth.
No empire over neighborhoods that knew each other’s names,
No landlord over lifelines—we retire rigged games.
We counter with cooperatives, with credit unions, schools,
With kitchens run by neighbors, not a crown of clever rules.
A treaty is a promise not to profit from a scar;
We sign in bread and braille and build a brighter reservoir.

[Pre-Chorus]
Quiet math of mercy: add the lost, remove the lash,
Multiply the futures, cancel debts, and split the stash.

[Verse 3]
Machine-saint sermons promise uploads of the soul to gold,
But patents on a personhood are graves disguised as code.
Transhuman silver bullet: “shed the frailty, buy the sky,”
Yet bodies are not beta-tests; we’re breath that learns to cry.
If upgrades need an heirloom class to buy a second dawn,
Then “future” is a feudal house with neon curtains drawn.
We’d rather wire kindness into networks made of knees,
Where hands still hold the fragile and the fallible is free.
Authoritarian firmware boots with slogans, locks the port,
But grassroots flash the firmware patch: communion as a sport.
The soul’s not data property; the flesh is not a fee,
Our value isn’t valued by expanding GDP.
If profit sails alone while docks collapse beneath the crowd,
That margin is a morgue—the math should make us loud.
We model moral markets where the ledger loves the least,
And scale the sacred surplus till the famine finds a feast.

Low hum, long drum—ethics in the underbeat,
New law, no throne—neighbors at the mercy seat.
No brand, no blade—only balm for busted feet,
Whole tide, bright wide—every room a refuge street.

Math of the Mercy

[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

[Verse 1]
Flag-wrapped catchphrases cash in the cash box,
Campaign catechisms masking the padlocks.
Bad cops, batons, then pastors do backdrop—
Casting a vote for the moat round the last-block.
I counter the counterfeits—counter with counterspace,
Counters with casseroles, faith in a louder grace.
Power wants pageants; we’re paging the powerless,
Pages of red letters read in the hourless.
Table-flip tempo—truth in a tendon snap,
Tents in the temp cold, soup in a trembling lap.
Kingdom is contact, constant and honest work,
Wash feet, mop hurt—watch the monsters shirk.

[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

[Verse 2]
Neo-strongman sermons—service in servo-mode,
Narrow the worthy, swerve mercy to “curb the load.”
Scripture as sticker—politic gimmickry,
Christ in the kitchen, not clicks for the imagery.
I’m Samaritan stitches, carrying splints and salt,
Bandage the slandered, cancel the hidden vault.
Beatitudes bloom in the fumes of a winter night,
Streetlight halo on halos that didn’t shine.
“Law and order” that hoards what the poor require?
Real law’s love—pour water on border wires.
If your creed breeds greed, that’s a fever dream;
We feed, seed peace—that’s the Jesus theme.
[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

[Verse 3]
Microphones monetize menace in megachurch,
Meanwhile the megaphone’s mercy in neighbor work.
Nation as idol? That’s iron and paper skin—
Golden-calf glow can’t cover a vacant grin.
“Bless those who curse you,”—verses that burn the fuse,
Turn other cheek to the cheek that we turn to use:
Face the abuser with truth and a firmed-up spine,
Guard the abused with a room and a warm supply.
Justice is honest receipts, not a hashtag,
Coats on a chair, bus fare in a cash bag.
Empire can posture; we posture the pan and pot,
Gospel is groceries—hot where the night is not.

[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

[Bridge]
Low hum—heater on; snow drums—beat along,
Phone charged—leave it on; no one eats alone.
Torn nets—weave ‘em strong; sore necks—lean and yawn,
Dawn breaks—sing it on: mercy leads us home.

[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

[Chorus]
Keep the lights on, come inside.
Share the bread, share the time.
Hearts stay open, side by side.
Love says “welcome”—that’s our sign.

Keep the Lights On Come Inside

Chorus]
Keep the porch light bright—let the broke step in;
We don’t beg their grace—we evoke, step in.
Hold the line, hold hands, make a vote, step in;
Every closed fist opens when we hope, step in.

[Verse 1]
Paper saints with plated gates, litigate the food line,
We relate with crates and plates—renegade of rude times.
Pay-to-pray charade, parade the nation as a sacred brand,
I parade a basin—hands and aprons, that’s the sacred plan.
Camel-eye aperture—ledger-heavy, fracture sure,
Lazarus at lattices—“access” stamped with lack for sure.
If “order” draws a border ‘round a fridge with seven locks,
Then justice is a locksmith and a squad with extra pots.

[Chorus]
Keep the porch light bright—let the broke step in;
We don’t beg their grace—we evoke, step in.
Hold the line, hold hands, make a vote, step in;
Every closed fist opens when we hope, step in.

[Verse 2]
Debt traps, red stamps, hospitals with hostile bills,
We set claps, bread camps, gospel with the practical.
Mutuals with schedules—childcare, rideshares, med refills,
Credible, replicable—Acts two vegetables.
If creed is only spectacle—discard it like a broken wand;
If need is met in measurable receipts—we’re finally walking on.

[Chorus]
Keep the porch light bright—let the broke step in;
We don’t beg their grace—we evoke, step in.
Hold the line, hold hands, make a vote, step in;
Every closed fist opens when we hope, step in.

[Bridge]
Name the harm; share the tools; learn the craft; set the rules.
Feed the block; hold the truth; build the trust; break the ruse.

[Chorus]
Keep the porch light bright—let the broke step in;
We don’t beg their grace—we evoke, step in.
Hold the line, hold hands, make a vote, step in;
Every closed fist opens when we hope, step in.

Step In

Profits of End Times Sorcery

[Verse 1]
Basement of the nation, bass kick consecration,
Bitter idols waving banners like a makeshift consecration,
Snake scripts, state myths, draped in flag-knit incantation,
I lace riffs, break ribs of that blank-trip domination.
They pray to paper crowns, counterfeit coronation,
Cross-hilt politics, profit from poor salvation;
Torching every border with a bored humiliation,
But we pour living water on their scorched imaginations.
Algorithm of the spirit, anti-empire calibration,
I’m a cipher in the choir, calling frauds to cancellation;
No hail to hollow halos hung on hate’s hallucination,
Only light that shatters night and censors their sensational.
They pitch a graven nation, call it sacred legislation,
We reject it—resurrected in a just reformation;
Church of New Millennium, rhythm as revelation,
Truth drum, boom-blessed, breaking chains of domination.

Low-tide lullaby, lightning in my chest,
Mercy like a floodlight, cutting through their nets;
No flag on my faith, no border on my breath,
Love is the law here—life over death.
Turn up the low end, wash away their lies,
Choir on fire, truth is on the rise;
We won’t bow to idols carved in empire stone,
Heaven in the bass drum—bringing every captive home.

[Verse 2]
They auction off the scriptures like a slip in speculation,
Clip verses, flip curses, forge a forced identification;
March kids into a maze of militant indoctrination,
But we splice it with the spice of fearless re-creation.
Their pulpits pump a panic—pure authoritarian fiction,
Blunt fists, stunt lists, spun wrists in crucifixion;
We counter with a canon of communal jurisdiction,
Bread breaks, beds make—mutual aid as benediction.
Hymnals in the sub-bass, brimstone to the bigots’ bluff,
Signal through the nickels of their nickel-plated cuffs;
Syllables are sickles in the fields of fascist fluff,
Harvest every heart that’s starved—enough is more than enough.
No Caesar in the chancel, no police in our psalms,
No border at the table, no empire in our palms;
If power is a parasite, justice is the balm,
We tune the room with boom and bloom a fearless calm.

Low-tide lullaby, lightning in my chest,
Mercy like a floodlight, cutting through their nets;
No flag on my faith, no border on my breath,
Love is the law here—life over death.
Turn up the low end, wash away their lies,
Choir on fire, truth is on the rise;
We won’t bow to idols carved in empire stone,
Heaven in the bass drum—bringing every captive home.

Life Over Death

Welcome to our world. We are BIRTHRIGHT. A collective of creators working to bring you faith-based content that challenges the narrative. Thanks for checking us out! ~B

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