Lyrics

Welcome to the temple where the money never sleeps,
Where the walls are made of shell firms buried ten deep.
HSBC—altar of the peso black trade,
Funneling drug cash like priests getting paid.
Tellers got boxes made to fit that flow,
While regulators looked and said, “Low risk, bro.”
Cartels move billions, the audits stay blind,
Because the gospel here is profit, not crime.
---
[VERSE 2 – The Doctrine of Sanctioned Sin]
Wire-stripped names, no origin traced,
Moving cash to regimes the West claims disgraced.
Cuba, Iran, Sudan on the wire,
But it’s Standard Chartered lighting that fire.
$250 billion danced through the screen,
While warzones burned and the books stayed clean.
Compliance is ritual, guilt never named,
Just a sacrament of laundering under legal flame.
---
[VERSE 3 – The Offshore Choirs Sing]
Shell games in the Virgin Isles whisper in code,
Trusts stack like icons in a banker’s abode.
BNY Mellon, Deutsche in the fold,
Moving funds for oligarchs, dirty and bold.
Secrecy havens like crypts for the elite,
Where capital prays and the poor can’t compete.
No passport control, just a money parade,
Sanctified theft in a zero-tax shade.
---
[VERSE 4 – The Archons in Robes]
DOJ bows with a billion-dollar fine,
But nobody walks and nobody does time.
Too big to fail, too sacred to try,
Let the CEOs lie while the whistleblowers die.
Revolving doors spin—Treasury to Board,
Stuart Levey suits up, now he’s holding the sword.
From enforcer to fixer, the roles rotate,
It’s not oversight, it’s a consecrated gate.
---
[VERSE 5 – The Hidden Empire of Red Silk]
Hong Kong channels, masked capital flight,
Chinese elites vanish funds in the night.
No fingerprints, just a sea of red tape,
PEPs move through wires with a sovereign escape.
No direct trail to the dragon’s elite,
But the FinCEN files show the pulse beneath feet.
Burma, Sudan—China’s proxy play,
Sanctions dodged while the West looks away.
---
[OUTRO – The Sacred Pollution]
This ain’t conspiracy, it’s structure on display,
An empire of finance built to betray.
Not one bad actor, but a global rite,
Where crime is baptized in the boardroom light.
The cathedral stands—tall, black, obscene,
Built on the profits of the unseen machine.
And the bells keep ringing in a language of spin,
But the Logos remembers where the cracks begin.