They built their gardens on borrowed hope, Promised heaven through swallowed throats. Every faith plants the same old seed "Obey in life, and death will feed." The temples rise on prostrate spines, Golden domes hide the breadlines. Paradise hangs just out of reach While vultures nest in what they preach. I walked their paths of ash and prayer, Found only hunger waiting there. No promised land, no divine reward Just a golden grave the gods ignored. You sold salvation on credit and fear, But the garden was rotting all these years There are vultures in Eden, Claws in every crown. They feed on the faithful As paradise burns down. No resurrection, no sacred flame Just scavengers picking through the remains. Your heaven was hollow from the start, A gilded tomb to break their hearts. I've seen the saints with plastic grace, Selling dirt as a holy place. Every scripture the same old con Surrender now, rewards will come. The serpent speaks with clearer tongue Than prophets who've profited from the young. Your angels trade in blood and lies While believers starve beneath your skies. The garden breathes but it's all bone, A golden grave you call a throne. You kiss the altar—I spit the truth: There's no ascent, just stolen youth. Your paradise was built on backs that broke, A beautiful lie and funeral smoke There are vultures in Eden, Claws in every crown. They feed on the faithful As paradise burns down. No resurrection, no sacred flame Just scavengers picking through the remains. Your heaven was hollow from the start, A gilded tomb to break their hearts. Every faith has its garden of lies, Different names for the same demise. Jannah, Moksha, Kingdom Come Carrots dangled for the kingdom's sons. The gates were never real, Just bars to make you kneel. I see the pattern in every creed: Control through want, power through need. A golden grave the gods forgot, Or maybe built, then left to rot. Your paradise was always this A trap disguised as promised bliss. There are vultures in Eden, Claws in every crown. Feeding on devotion As the temples all burn down. No salvation, no divine remain Just the architects of your pain. Every heaven's a gilded cage, Every scripture the same damn page. The garden is dead. The vultures remain. And I walk out free Wearing every anathema name. Heretic. Apostate. Kafir. Lost. I am the truth you paid to cross.
