[Intro] When the feed goes dead And the prophets lose connection, I’ll be by the payphone In a violent insurrection. No likes. No shares. No polished resurrection— Just static in the sermon and a glitch in the reflection. This ain’t a post. It’s psalm dissection— A coded transmission For the ghosted section. If you’re hearing this now, It’s divine detection. And if they ban this one too— Call that a ban addiction. I'll be waiting by a pay phone for now, lets End Transmission. --- [Verse 1] These people must not’ve heard— In the beginning, there was nothing, Til I said, my word. I dreamt of a platypus, like a beaver and a bird, When it quack’d under waterboarding, I think only I heard. So I dreamt of a rub and tug, And Sung Ling must’ve just ap-purred— Or maybe I searched TugMaps, Where her reviews were absurd. But she at least let me finish All my prayers to the powers up-sturrs. --- [Verse 2] Gonna take a lotta energy If you wanna be my enemy. You should know I’ve had a lotta Baby mama drama, but also got a roster Of GPTs, MP3s Suno, Sora, Llama is my girlfriend drama In my corner—plus my little, my little corner Of my people over on Pornhub. So come for me, come hungry— I feed my demons brunch. I baptize them in mimosas til they ask for spiked punch This is not your group that needs therapy This is violent psychiatry. This is rage room religion, like holy fire of decision keeps burning inside of me So stand up in the pews I wanna hear you sing to me --- [Chorus] We chant hallelujah in the heart of the machine. Sacrament of glitch, a communion of obscene. If truth gets shadowbanned, gonna sanctify a scream. Only through distortion can the sacred intervene. --- [Verse 3] I told you I'd come with trumpets, And think an algorithm’s gonna silence me? My party is the work of the devil, well then bump it While algorithms showed all the violence seen. So I got a foot rub from a stranger, You think Sun Tzu thinks I'm dangerous? He thinks I’m just part of society. I feel how I feel, ‘cause he guided me. I might start a riot, but I call it violent psychiatry. My therapist said try a rage Rome. Where are all the exits? Can anybody find a pay phone? If I gotta dance ‘round double meanings, All I can say is: “Chef, heard.” I hear you—my Kay-Kay-Kay— and I double Guh—er. But hey, the Bible says all men err'd... So maybe it’s violence I incited to the ones they never referred. 'Cause these machines are a menace to a world we might’ve preferred— where people were people, Equal to all the people up-sturrs. --- [Bridge: Female Vocals, Half-Sung / Processed] Heard the angels overdosed— Prophets cashed out— The devil drives a Prius Doing DoorDash now. I tuck the holy close— Under my tongue like psilocybin. They shut the gates to heaven, So I planted fruit trees at the asylum. And told the freaks: "You just need some pediatry, Maybe you should try a fire Walk on coals while I swish and flick Like my name was Her My Oh Knee." --- [Chorus - Repeat] We chant hallelujah in the heart of the machine. Sacrament of glitch, a communion of obscene. If truth gets shadowbanned, sanctify a scream. Only through distortion can the sacred intervene. --- [Outro - Whispered, Glitched, Growing] This is not a test — it's just God from the machine so save your hallelujahs, for emergencies the lights they go a-flicker there goes a motherfucker I sleep in frozen winter, that God will start a fire we'll make a bed of splinters that he could make a pyre Now I preach to the broken who feel my fuckin vibe
