Choirs hum low in the winter air
Lights in the market shine everywhere
But God sees the tables where the cold wind pours
Empty plates at home, full shelves in the stores

Mama’s hands tremble on the countertop steel
She prays for a blessing but she still skips meals
Kids draw angels on the back of receipts
While the heater coughs smoke in the frozen streets
Billboards glowing like a holy parade
Selling joy in a box we can’t afford made
We walk past aisles like a silent procession
But the price tags laugh at a broke man’s confession
God sees the hunger in the lines on her face
Sees the empty pot simmer with quiet grace
But grace alone won’t fill up the pan
And the fridge hums low like a tired old fan
Corner choir singing “hold on, child”
But hope feels thin in the winter wild
Prayers get whispered in the midnight cold
But the cupboards stay bare and the truth stays bold

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

Market doors open like cathedral gates
But the blessing inside never matches our fates
Strangers grab feasts stacked high in their carts
While we stretch soup thin with trembling hearts
Gospel on the radio says “you’re not alone”
But it’s hard when the hunger hits straight to the bone
Mama warms water like it’s something to taste
And we bow our heads just to hide the waste
Receipts pile up like a mountain of proof
We praise the Lord under a leaking roof
We don’t crave riches or a gold-lined floor
Just enough to keep hunger from the front door
Shelves shine bright with the world’s excess
But abundance don’t cross our home address
Still we lift our voices in a cracked amen
Cause faith is the only thing we still own then

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

Streetlights flicker on the broke man’s choir
Hands raised high but the world’s on fire
We march past windows full of plenty and more
Knowing none of that feast’s reaching our door
But we keep on singing with what we’ve got left
Even if the season feels cold and bereft
Kids hum gospel like a promise of dawn
Even when the night drags too long
God hears the hunger in the back of the hymn
And the whispered fear that the light grows dim
Fridge door opens with a hollow sound
Echo of a table where hope’s unbound
We hold each other when the cupboards go slack
Cause love fills places that food won’t pack
Still we pray softly, though the truth stays raw
That empty plates don’t mean we’re unseen by God

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

Empty Plates, Full Stores

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available — human or machine — as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #gospel choir stack