Original lyrics

EN

They built their shrines beneath the tongue So every prayer could taste like them A scent of gold, a breath of rust Forgiveness pre-approved and stamped They teach you how to kneel in style With folded guilt and steady smiles Your hands are clean But every finger pays Paper halos sold in threes Discounted for your tragedies You hum along, you never scream That's how the holy keep you clean I've seen them heal what they first infect Call it light I call it debt They trade salvation by the gram Hand it out in gentle hands Every virtue has a price tag Every sinner signs a plan And at home The fire hums in smaller ways The walls repeat their names While anger learns my face The louder they bless The deeper it cuts Peace tastes like profit And I've had enough If heaven's for sale Hell must be home