The air tastes like static and broken glass— sirens whisper through the morning mass. Screens all scream in a language of flame, every truth got dressed up in someone else’s name. We’re dancing on wires stretched thin and loud, blindfold prayers in a screaming crowd. Flags like ghosts in a hurricane spin, nobody remembers where it all begins… And it feels like— Hell on Earth, with a pretty smile and a scripted worth, selling fear in a neon church, yeah we’re living in Hell on Earth. The headlines bleed in a lullaby tone, while lonely hearts scroll through the unknown. Crowns made of money, thrones made of lies, and hope keeps drowning in algorithm skies. We shout in colors they taught us to fear, red, blue, black, disappear. Every voice is a battlefield drum, and peace feels like something that never comes. And it feels like— Hell on Earth, where truth gets buried and pain gets birth, we’re counting down what freedom’s worth, yeah we’re living in Hell on Earth. (Bridge — softer, aching burn) But somewhere under the noise and the war, there’s a pulse that remembers what we’re fighting for… Not kings, not cages, not lines in the sand— just the trembling touch of a human hand… (Final chorus — full rage, soaring) HELL ON EARTH— but we’re still breathing, still raising hurt, still screaming louder than what they enforce, yeah we’re fire inside this cursed course… Hell on Earth… and we refuse to go quietly first.
