Popery

Available on Amazon Music, iTunes, Spotify, and wherever you get your music! Lyrics: [Intro] In nomine Patris… et Filii… et Spiritus Sancti… I am the successor of Peter. Keeper of the keys. But tonight… the keys jingle like chains. [Verse 1] I’m the Pope on the throne, Peter’s rock but I’m rolling stones Apostolic succession with a few broken bones Ex cathedra I pontificate, infallible decree While the curia’s gangrenous and the stench won’t leave Spiritual rot in the body of Christ, veins full of pus I mask it with potpourri, incense, and fuss Simony, nepotism, the old Borgia game I’m the dope woke Pope — enlightened in name Idolatry? We got statues that weep, icons that bleed But it’s dulia, hyperdulia — word games we seed “Latria for God alone,” we chant with straight face While the faithful kiss marble and call it pure grace Early fathers in catacombs kept it simple and stark Fish, anchor, cross — no graven image, no spark We upgraded to power, the crucifix on the chest Of the flock we fleece daily while claiming we’re blessed [Chorus] Popery, potpourri — masking the potty stench Ecclesiastical toilet where the rot’s entrenched I’m the dope woke Pope with the rope-a-dope sway No scope on my sins but the tiara’s on display Gold chain ’round my neck, not the millstone I earned For the harm to the least ones — the lesson unlearned Sola Scriptura they scream, but I got tradition The magisterium’s addition, the hypocritical mission [Verse 2] Child abuse in the parishes, priests on the hunt I rotate ’em like bishops on a chessboard of front “Move ’em to the missions,” the old Vatican play While the victims stay silent and the lawsuits get paid Jesus said it plain — Matthew eighteen, verse six Millstone ’round the neck, better drowned in the sea for the tricks Played on the altar boys, the girls in the choir But I wear the gold, the pallium, the white in the fire Rope-a-dope, I bob and weave through the grand juries and probes “Internal review” — no real scope, just PR in robes Spotlight hit Boston, then Ireland, then global I issued apologies printed on papal bull The system’s still nodal, the caste still untouchable Clergy above law — the shadow’s uncrushable Protestants got it right? Sola fide, sola script I condemn their schism while my own house is ripped By the Book they uphold — it exposes my throne Built on the sand of man’s word, not the Stone [Verse 3] Persecution’s my résumé — Inquisition’s flame Jews expelled, conversos tortured, all in His name “Deus vult!” we cried while the Prince of Peace came To bring peace, not the sword — yet we swung it the same Crusades, blood libels, the rack and the pyre Early fathers would look at us now and retire Post-World War Two ratlines — we smuggled the Nazis Pius the silent, concordats with the fascists Vatican passports to Argentina’s shore While the smoke from the camps still rose and implored For justice we buried in cassocks and crypts Moral authority? Cloak for the scripts Of empire, not gospel — the hypocrisy stings As the Word cuts deeper than any of my rings [Bridge] Whited sepulchres — Matthew twenty-three Beautiful outside, inside? Decay, you see I am not the way — He is the way, the truth, the life I’m the vicar who veils it with ritual and strife Sola Scriptura… maybe the reformers were wise The living Word judges, it cuts through the lies Of popes and traditions that add to the scroll The truth will out… and it’s coming for my soul [Outro] Popery, potpourri… the stench lingers on No incense can cover what the light has shone Dope woke Pope? The “woke” was a hoax Rope-a-dope failing as the no-scope chokes On the millstone that’s coming for the harm I have done To the least of these… under the Son… Amen.