sirens sing a hymn tonight, bassline hums beneath the light. concrete pews, chrome halos spin, forgiveness starts where the beat begins. broken speakers preach the word, echoes of gospel barely heard. every kick restores the flame, every snare repeats the name. in this city made of smoke and sound, we raise our hands, not fall down. no robes, no steeple, no gold to keep, only the faithful who never sleep. we are the choir of the streets, voices move with the concrete beats. heaven’s not far, it’s four bars away, when the DJ lets the gospel play. low light faces, glowing eyes, tears and sweat, the spirit flies. through every loop, through every break, we find the love that noise can make. whispered preacher voice: "don’t look up — the kingdom’s down here." drums fade, reverb grows, the crowd disappears. choir of the streets, lift your sound, turn the dark to holy ground. faith in motion, rhythm divine, the bassline’s blessing — yours and mine. as the lights fade, the echo remains, hallelujahs in broken refrains.
