[start] [Intro: Distorted analog synth drone; industrial percussion loop building beneath math-rock guitar feedback; distant gospel choir pads swelling like static prayer] [Verse 1: whispered, half-sung through a gritty filter] Cameras flash in perfect time, Same sermon, same rehearsed lines. Words keep pouring, but no soul, Mechanical messiah losing control. [Instrumental texture: glitchy delay guitar echoes, filtered drum reverb swells, metallic bass pulse] [Chorus: shouted with layered distortion and gospel echoes] Rise of the mechanical Christ, Prophet built on manufactured lies. Feeding desperation what they need, Building heaven out of greed. The story that we’re selling’s getting old. [Verse 2: low-register vocal, processed through saturation] She buys islands, I buy jets, Drowning deep in apocalyptic bets. Powder on the mirror, our communion now, Getting through the hollow nights somehow. [Instrumental bridge: syncopated industrial groove, interlocking math-rock rhythm, synth bass pulse with reverb-laden choir swells] [Chorus: distorted choir harmonies backing the lead vocal] Rise of the mechanical Christ, Prophet built on manufactured lies. Feeding desperation what they need, Building heaven out of greed. The story that we’re selling’s getting old. [Bridge: spoken, half-cynical, half-confessional] Every city’s the same stage, Every crowd the same rage. Perfected the performance, forgot the why, Algorithm whispers, I comply. [Chorus: gospel choir harmonies swell and distort; fuzzed-out synth pads shimmer behind vocal rasp] Rise of the mechanical Christ, Prophet built on manufactured lies. Feeding desperation what they need, Building heaven out of greed. The story that we’re selling’s getting old. [Outro: decaying analog static; reverb collapses into white noise, fading into silence] When the high fades, lights go dim, See the hollow shell I’m in. But morning comes, donations flow, Take another hit, restart the show. [end]
