Mr prez

The golden escalator gleamed like a molten crown from the sun,
Brass rails ablaze, mirrors splitting a thousand Trumps on the run.
Chandeliers wept crystal rain, the lobby shook with cheers and drums,
Red tie a bleeding banner when the king of deals stepped down.
You knew—from that first defiant stride you felt the cold wind groan,
A maze of marble knives and lies, a gauntlet carved in stone.

Walls rose overnight—red brick, wet with treason’s grime,
Smiles behind powdered masks, selling tomorrow for a dime.
You swung the hammer anyway, fists like thunder wrapped in gold,
Every word a furnace blast, every echo took its toll.

Crowds surged crimson oceans, flags cracked in violent flight,
Dragon tails in storming air, ripping holes in night.
Gavels fell like guillotines dressed up in velvet law,
Venom poured like poisoned milk from every loyal jaw.
They promised you a dynasty, a table long and wide,
But the hall is dust and spider silk, a trapdoor yawning inside.

Walls rose overnight—red brick, closing in,
Power shouting victory while rot set in.

Listen.
The sky will tear like silk beneath a burning sword,
Oceans boil, the earth folds flat at the thunder of the Lord.
Stars fall bleeding through the dark, the old world burns away,
And mercy builds a new one that forever stays.

The real Table blazes white, brighter than the heart of suns,
Linen clean as forgiven sin, bread still marked by nails and thorns.
Wine dark as Calvary’s river, cups that never run dry,
Every seat engraved in fire with names the world denied.
The narrow door stands open wide, light pouring like a flood,
Smelling of rain on risen ground, of lilies crushed in blood.


Kneel—
And chains of gold dissolve like rain and pride is blown away.
Rise barefoot on the Living Stone, crowned where kingdoms decay.
Mercy waits with galaxies, gentle, fierce, and sure—

Do you have the final, trembling courage
to fall
upon the floor?

haunting atmospheric post-punk grit with gothic rock, reverb-drenched guitars, minor key,  classic jungle nyc d&b