Act One: The Holy Screen.
Preachers selling dreams in green,
Prayers typed in comment chains,
“Amém” for fame delete the pain.
Angels falling for applause,
Devils trending, breaking laws,
Flashbulbs blind, confession staged,
Sin looks pretty when it’s paid.
We cover blood with glittered hands,
Call the chaos “masterplan.”
Every mask a masterpiece,
Every lie a masterpiece.
Lights flash the truth dissolves,
We dance while the city burns it all.
The crowd screams “bravo” through the smoke,
Welcome to the nightmare we call hope.
No curtain falls, no one leaves,
Just empty hearts and diamond sleeves.
Act Two: the politician’s grin,
Smile so wide it hides the sin.
Promises cheap, but the profit’s loud,
Golden cage for a silent crowd.
Act Three: the influencer’s prayer,
Fake tears, fake sun, fake air.
Plastic crown, digital pain,
Selling dreams for dopamine rain.
Every act, same old theme,
Lust for power, chase the gleam.
Feed the beast, rewind the tape,
It’s horror wrapped in cellophane.
Spotlight flickers,
They all laugh louder.
The blood on the floor
Tastes sweeter with power.
Curtains drip,
The choir hums,
No savior left
Just the drums.
Lights flash the truth dissolves,
We dance while the city burns it all.
Fake halos, diamonds, smoke,
Welcome to the horror we provoke.
No heroes left, no souls to save,
Just actors digging their own graves.
