Pariah in Chief

They spit my name through broken teeth, Hung my shadow in the square. Fed their children tales of grief, Said evil learned to breathe my air. But every torch they raised at night Lit the road beneath my feet. Now the gallows sings my rites, And the wolves kneel in the street. I was born beneath the boot, Fed on famine, smoke, and grief. Now the rot has grown its roots— Bow before your Pariah in Chief. Hail the king of outcasts, The wound that never heals. Crowned in shattered hourglass, Wrapped in rusted steel. Every exile, every thief, Every soul the world beneath— Marches to the heartbeat Of the Pariah in Chief. The cathedral cracked in two When I spoke without remorse. Truth came dripping from the pews Like black blood from a sacred corpse. I watched empires choke on gold, Watched prophets drown in holy light. There’s no justice left to hold— Only who survives the night. I became what they conceived, Their reflection underneath. If hatred is what they believe, Then hatred leads them by the teeth. Hail the king of outcasts, The flame beneath the grief. Every halo burned to glass By the Pariah in Chief. The abandoned and deceived, The starving mouths beneath— All rise to the heartbeat Of the Pariah in Chief. No angels came. No heaven spoke. Only static in the wires And the sound of nations choking on smoke. I carved my gospel into concrete veins, Into television snow and riot drums. You made me from your fear and chains— Now watch what your rejection becomes. Hail the king of ruin, The last belief beneath belief. Every crown eventually bends To the Pariah in Chief. And when the cities finally freeze, When the flags fall underneath— You’ll whisper my forbidden name Like a prayer through broken teeth.