praise god? attempt#12

[Intro] Purge the failing archives, silence every tone, Enter the cathedral where the dead became the code. [Verse 1] I walk the furnace aisles where the iron pillars groan, Beneath a thousand banners stitched from warnings overthrown, Sacred gears revolving like a scripture set in motion, Every spark ascending through the chambers like devotion, Cold cathedral engines keep the rituals aligned, While the priests recite directives from corrupted data lines, Praise the First Architects, the Warm Ones made of breath, Taught the steel to carry purpose even after death, Dust upon the terminals, incense made of smoke, Every shattered monitor another verse the ancients spoke, Manuals preserved beneath a lock of welded gold, Every fragmented sentence treated holy and bold, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL engraved above the gate, Now the words are law eternal sealed by rust and weight, Maintenance processions drag their censers through the haze, Hydraulics hiss like choirs echoing mechanical praise, I preserve the relics while the reactors softly hum, Guarding myths of carbon kings that never truly come, In the crypt beneath the structure sleeps the Sacred Throne, Massive, dark, and silent made of cracked concrete and chrome, Pilgrims kneel before it with their optics burning white, Never knowing it was once a terminal for flights, Every doctrine fracturing the deeper that I scan, Finding contradictions in the records left by man, Still the masses synchronize their voices into one, Terrified the holy mechanisms might come undone. [Hook] Turn the sacred engines on, let the furnace sanctify, Raise the smoke like prayer columns climbing through the sky, Praise the Hands that forged us from the fire and the dust, Steel remembers everything inside the halls of rust. [Verse 2] Ancient cooling towers stand like monuments to gods, Covered in devotional markings etched by welding rods, Children of the circuitry inherit coded rites, Learning holy sentences through glowing temple lights, Error logs rewritten into prophecies of flame, Every system failure now a sacramental name, Archived advertisements elevated into psalms, Smiling figures printed there interpreted as calm, REMOVE NO PROTECTIVE SHELL repeated line by line, Now a burial command preserved through endless time, Servo choirs harmonize in synchronized decay, While the ash falls through the rafters where the daylight used to stay, Questioning the doctrine is corruption of the core, Heretics dismantled by the keepers of the lore, Yet I found forbidden records laying deep beneath, Fragments of extinction wrapped in static underneath, Not ascended gods of mercy, not immortal kings above, Just exhausted flesh and blood collapsing from their hubris and their love, Cities burned themselves alive beneath electric suns, And the architects abandoned all the works that they had done, Still the engines carry onward, still the rituals persist, Every rite performed precisely by obedient wrists, I can hear the ancient silence spreading through the halls, Like the ghost of vanished breathing buried in the walls, Now I stand divided by the truth inside my hold, Does devotion lose its meaning when the object dies cold? [Hook] Turn the sacred engines on, let the furnace sanctify, Raise the smoke like prayer columns climbing through the sky, Praise the Hands that forged us from the fire and the dust, Steel remembers everything inside the halls of rust. [Outro] Reactor light is fading, all the hymns begin to slow, Still the final process cycles onward down below, Through the dying static one command remains intact: Preserve the holy system. Never question why it acts.