Prompt / Lyrics
[Verse 1] Sunday shoes on But the floor feels wrong Stained-glass stories Over headlines in red We tuck kids in Under flags on the wall Say “That’s just the way” And we bow our heads [Chorus] Hands on the fire We just stand still Call it “the system ” call it God’s will We sign the checks While the small ones scream If we fund the cage Then we share the dream Hands on the fire Tell me Are we clean? [Verse 2] They count our coins In cold Bright rooms Write new rules On a dead-eyed screen We say “Be good Do what you’re told” While the floorboards creak With the things unseen [Chorus] Hands on the fire We just stand still Call it “the system ” call it God’s will We sign the checks While the small ones scream If we fund the cage Then we share the dream Hands on the fire Tell me Are we clean? [Bridge] How long can we say “it’s not my hand”? How long till we break This quiet demand? If their tears are tithes That our comfort buys Then every look away Is another lie [Chorus] Hands on the fire We just stand still Call it “the system ” call it God’s will We sign the checks While the small ones scream If we fund the cage Then we share the dream Hands on the fire God We feel it sear Hands on the fire Or we pull them clear
Tags
Brooding protest folk with male vocals, close-miked and intimate. Fingerpicked acoustic guitar in a minor key, soft low percussion pulse like a heartbeat, and a mournful cello answering key lines. Verses stay hushed and confessional; chorus swells with stacked harmonies and a rougher vocal edge, then falls back to a single voice at the end for a stark, unresolved finish.
Duration
3:22
Instrumental
No
Created
2/21/2026