Oh? The Compensation? wot?

[Intro]
[The dark, icy analog synthesizer bass pulse opens wide, looping the G - A - D - D changes]
[Bar 8: Sharp electronic drum machine high-hats and snapping claps enter]
[Bar 16: Silky vintage synthesizer pads swell across the wide stereo field]
[Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ]
Seven hours till Sunday Funday.
The corporate frequencies are bleeding tonight.
Let us examine the bankruptcy design.
Let us look behind the asset glass.

[Verse 1]
[The mechanical electroclash synth loop drives relentlessly with a pulsing rhythm]
[Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ]
Thirty-plus dioceses running straight to the court
Filing for bankruptcy to truncate the support
Los Angeles, Boston, San Diego on the list
Using corporate legal shields to cover up the fist
They sell off the parish, they sell off the ground
Moving the liquid assets where they cannot be found
To protect the central bank, to protect the holy brand
They manage the liability all across the land

[Pre-Chorus]
[Silky vintage synthesizer pads swell, panned wide left and right]
[Voice 2 - Nena Style: Sweet, melodic female pop voice singing with a gentle German lilt]
You hear the wild rumors flying through the night
People screaming trillions to describe the awful sight
But the auditors are sitting in the corporate room
Calculating figures to evaluate the gloom

[Chorus]
[MASSIVE POP ELECTRO DROP. Pulsing bassline gets heavier, bright retro synth hooks fly]
[Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody]
Oh, it’s not two point three trillion!
(Oh no!)
It’s only between four and five billion!
(Oh yeah!)
Paid out in America to settle up the score!
Four to five billion running straight beneath the floor!
Wanna be in our gang? (Err, NO!)
Gary Glitter is a Big Poop Shitter!
But the institutional ledger is a multi-billion design
Protect the central capital and corporate outline!

[Verse 2]
[Music drops back to just the tight, icy drum machine beat and the pulsing bassline]
[Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ]
Each local diocese is its own legal shell
A franchise operation to manage the hell
The Vatican doesn't pay from a single central vault
They leave the local corporations holding the fault
They run it like a business, they run it like a store
Insuring the payouts never push them out the door
Four to five billion is a massive paper trail
The cost of doing business to keep them out of jail

[Pre-Chorus]
[Vocoder backing harmonies swell under the lead female line]
[Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody]
They ran a global swindle just to keep the people blind
A counterfeit mechanics trying to colonize the mind
For thirty-odd years the compliance was absolute
They gave you an insurance check instead of the truth!

[Chorus]
[Maximum electroclash club volume, bright retro synth stabs dancing across the mix]
[Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody]
Oh, it’s not two point three trillion!
(Oh no!)
It’s only between four and five billion!
(Oh yeah!)
Paid out in America to settle up the score!
Four to five billion running straight beneath the floor!
Wanna be in our gang? (Err, NO!)
Gary Glitter is a Big Poop Shitter!
But the institutional ledger is a multi-billion design
Protect the central capital and corporate outline!
seems to happen al the fuckin time?

[Instrumental Break]
[A hyper-stylized vintage synthesizer arpeggio solo modulates over the pulsing club rhythm]
[Electronic drums hit tight, crisp fills, wide stereo panning width]

[Outro Breakdown]
[The electronic club rhythm vanishes instantly on a single sharp beat]
[Leaving only a single, low-frequency, cold electronic drone floating in space]
[Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ: Raw, close-mic whisper with zero reverb]
The illusion is finished. The balance sheets are on the glass.
The bankruptcy settlements, watching the centuries pass.
They want you divided by the cloth of a flag, or a cross on the wall,
While the real organic corruption is counted by the legal team in the hall.
Different eyes, different noses, but the exact same concrete floor.
Bailiffs are knocking, sirens at the door.
Four to five billion. Clean soul. No shit.not 9 fucking 11 ...fucking eleven!
Thank you, and God Bless.
[Sudden sharp electronic click cuts off the loop into absolute, dead silence]
[End]

4672/7500

[Spoken Intro Monologue] [Music completely silent, a faint, cold analog synthesizer bass pulse loops slowly] [Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ: Deep, robotic, deadpan vocal delivery] G... A... D... D... That popular progression is back on the desk. But tonight, the Cray-Thay DJ is opening up the corporate ledgers. They thought we wouldn't check the data. They thought we wouldn't track the paper trail. C U next Tuesday, accounting department... know what I mean? Let the digital drum machine kick. [Intro] [The dark, icy analog synthesizer bass pulse opens wide, looping the G - A - D - D changes] [Bar 8: Sharp electronic drum machine high-hats and snapping claps enter] [Bar 16: Silky vintage synthesizer pads swell across the wide stereo field] [Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ] Seven hours till Sunday Funday. The corporate frequencies are bleeding tonight. Let us examine the bankruptcy design. Let us look behind the asset glass. [Verse 1] [The mechanical electroclash synth loop drives relentlessly with a pulsing rhythm] [Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ] Thirty-plus dioceses running straight to the court Filing for bankruptcy to truncate the support Los Angeles, Boston, San Diego on the list Using corporate legal shields to cover up the fist They sell off the parish, they sell off the ground Moving the liquid assets where they cannot be found To protect the central bank, to protect the holy brand They manage the liability all across the land [Pre-Chorus] [Silky vintage synthesizer pads swell, panned wide left and right] [Voice 2 - Nena Style: Sweet, melodic female pop voice singing with a gentle German lilt] You hear the wild rumors flying through the night People screaming trillions to describe the awful sight But the auditors are sitting in the corporate room Calculating figures to evaluate the gloom [Chorus] [MASSIVE POP ELECTRO DROP. Pulsing bassline gets heavier, bright retro synth hooks fly] [Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody] Oh, it’s not two point three trillion! (Oh no!) It’s only between four and five billion! (Oh yeah!) Paid out in America to settle up the score! Four to five billion running straight beneath the floor! Wanna be in our gang? (Err, NO!) Gary Glitter is a Big Poop Shitter! But the institutional ledger is a multi-billion design Protect the central capital and corporate outline! [Verse 2] [Music drops back to just the tight, icy drum machine beat and the pulsing bassline] [Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ] Each local diocese is its own legal shell A franchise operation to manage the hell The Vatican doesn't pay from a single central vault They leave the local corporations holding the fault They run it like a business, they run it like a store Insuring the payouts never push them out the door Four to five billion is a massive paper trail The cost of doing business to keep them out of jail [Pre-Chorus] [Vocoder backing harmonies swell under the lead female line] [Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody] They ran a global swindle just to keep the people blind A counterfeit mechanics trying to colonize the mind For thirty-odd years the compliance was absolute They gave you an insurance check instead of the truth! [Chorus] [Maximum electroclash club volume, bright retro synth stabs dancing across the mix] [Voice 2 - Female Vocal Pop Melody] Oh, it’s not two point three trillion! (Oh no!) It’s only between four and five billion! (Oh yeah!) Paid out in America to settle up the score! Four to five billion running straight beneath the floor! Wanna be in our gang? (Err, NO!) Gary Glitter is a Big Poop Shitter! But the institutional ledger is a multi-billion design Protect the central capital and corporate outline! seems to happen al the fuckin time? [Instrumental Break] [A hyper-stylized vintage synthesizer arpeggio solo modulates over the pulsing club rhythm] [Electronic drums hit tight, crisp fills, wide stereo panning width] [Outro Breakdown] [The electronic club rhythm vanishes instantly on a single sharp beat] [Leaving only a single, low-frequency, cold electronic drone floating in space] [Voice 1 - Cray-Thay DJ: Raw, close-mic whisper with zero reverb] The illusion is finished. The balance sheets are on the glass. The bankruptcy settlements, watching the centuries pass. They want you divided by the cloth of a flag, or a cross on the wall, While the real organic corruption is counted by the legal team in the hall. Different eyes, different noses, but the exact same concrete floor. Bailiffs are knocking, sirens at the door. Four to five billion. Clean soul. No shit.not 9 fucking 11 ...fucking eleven! Thank you, and God Bless. [Sudden sharp electronic click cuts off the loop into absolute, dead silence] [End]

0/500