Blood on the bassline,
screens in the skyline,
I’m preaching in a blackout,
selling truth by the gram.
Momma said “pray,”
but the church got repo’d,
so I kneel in the neon,
lick rust from the lamppost.
Your halo’s a choke-chain,
my virtue’s a gag,
still I smile through the sulf-ur,
spit pearls in the drag.