BABYLON SELLS EVERYTHING

BABYLON SELLS EVERYTHING

Babylon is open.

Gold in the window.
Music in the streets.
Bodies in the market.
Souls in the receipt.

And Heaven cries:

Come out of her, My people.

Listen.

[VERSE 1]

Babylon sells everything under the sun,
gold for the proud and bread for none.
Silk in the window, perfume in the air,
merchants keep singing like judgement ain’t there.

Cargo of silver, cargo of spice,
luxury polished at a terrible price.
Ivory, marble, jewels in flame,
and human souls at the end of the chain.

Revelation saw the market cry,
when the great city fell from the sky.
Merchants stood far off, choking on smoke,
because profit died when the judgement spoke.

“Who will buy now?” the traders weep,
the harbour goes silent, the cargo sleeps.
Music stops in the golden square,
no bridegroom voice, no wedding there.

Babylon loves a glittering face,
but her hands are red beneath the lace.
She sells you pleasure, sells you pride,
then hides the graves on the other side.

Now bring that scroll to the screen-lit street,
where desire gets priced and served to eat.
Swipe to purchase, tap to adore,
one more box at the digital door.

The mall became an altar with polished floors,
the app became a stall with infinite doors.
The brand became a priest in a glowing robe,
selling false worth to the orphaned globe.

“Buy this body. Buy this mood.
Buy this status. Buy this food.
Buy this face. Buy this name.
Buy this comfort. Buy this fame.”

But Heaven still speaks through the market sound:
the city of man is coming down.

[HOOK]

Babylon sells everything,
but she cannot sell peace.
She can fill your hands with gold
and leave your soul in chains.

Come out, come out,
before the smoke ascends.
The world is a shop
where the glory ends.

Only Jesus saves.
Only Jesus saves.
Luxury cannot cleanse you,
markets cannot raise.

Come out of her, My people.
Come home to the King.
Babylon sells everything,
but Christ gives life for free.

[VERSE 2]

She sells entertainment to numb the pain,
sells violence wrapped in a hero’s name.
Sells music engineered to train desire,
hooks like honey with a hidden fire.

She sells beauty with a mirror blade,
youth in bottles, debt displayed.
Sells insecurity back to the child,
then calls the transaction modern and mild.

She sells politics as saviour flame,
red and blue thrones with Caesar’s name.
Sells tribal rage by the daily ounce,
then counts the clicks when the tempers bounce.

She sells news panic, fear in streams,
nightmare headlines and sponsored dreams.
Sells doom in reels, sells grief in clips,
then adverts slide in with smiling lips.

She sells sport as borrowed glory,
crowds in worship, ninety-minute story.
Sells betting slips with a hungry grin,
turning hope into numbers and sin.

She sells tech as a second sky,
“Upload yourself. You never need die.”
But silicon bows, circuits are dust,
and no machine can make sinners just.

She sells romance without covenant fire,
bodies without holiness, love as desire.
Sells freedom as appetite crowned,
then leaves the soul on a cold tiled ground.

She sells religion without repentance,
soft little gods with no holy sentence.
Blessing without Cross, Heaven without King,
a soothing song where no angels sing.

And underneath every glowing stall,
the same old serpent whispers to all:

“Take. Taste. Own. Rule.
Be your own god.
Do not be a fool.”

But the fool is the soul who buys the lie,
and never asks why the Lamb had to die.

[HOOK]

Babylon sells everything,
but she cannot sell peace.
She can fill your hands with gold
and leave your soul in chains.

Come out, come out,
before the smoke ascends.
The world is a shop
where the glory ends.

Only Jesus saves.
Only Jesus saves.
Luxury cannot cleanse you,
markets cannot raise.

Come out of her, My people.
Come home to the King.
Babylon sells everything,
but Christ gives life for free.

[BRIDGE]

This is not hatred of trade.
This is not hatred of craft.
This is not hatred of beauty, music, food, or work.

Creation is good.

But Babylon takes gifts
and turns them into gods.

Babylon prices the soul.

Babylon trains desire.

Babylon says buy.

Jesus says come.

Without money.

Without price.

[VERSE 3]

This is the Gospel when the markets fall,
when smoke climbs high from the city wall.
God made the earth and filled it bright,
grain, gold, colour, music, light.

He gave good gifts for grateful hands,
wine, bread, gardens, seas and lands.
But man took gifts and forgot the Giver,
built proud cities by a poisoned river.

Sin made markets out of need,
turned holy craft into hunger and greed.
Sin sold bodies, souls and names,
then dressed the chains in luxury flames.

No receipt can clear your debt.
No refund cancels your regret.
No purchase heals the guilty stain.
No brand can make you born again.

But Jesus came where Babylon trades,
into the streets where the lost are weighed.
The Word became flesh, not product, not myth,
grace walking dusty roads as gift.

He overturned tables in the holy place,
because worship is not a marketplace.
He fed the hungry without a price,
living bread for the dead in vice.

He called the poor, the rich, the shamed,
called tax men out by mercy named.
He warned the proud, He touched the weak,
He came to save what sin made bleak.

Then Babylon, Rome, and religion agreed,
the Holy One must suffer and bleed.
They priced betrayal at silver’s sound,
thirty coins for the Lord renowned.

At the Cross, the true ransom came,
not bought by gold, not earned by fame.
Blood of the Lamb for the guilty poured,
mercy from God through the crucified Lord.

He paid the debt we could not pay,
tore sin’s record out of the way.
Buried once, then raised in power,
Christ broke death in the dawn-lit hour.

Now the call goes out through the market noise:
do not be drunk on Babylon’s joys.
Do not trade your soul for the world’s bright breath.
Come to the Lamb who conquered death.

The city of man will burn and bend,
but the city of God has no end.
New Jerusalem, clean and bright,
Lamb as lamp, no need of night.

[FINAL HOOK]

Babylon sells everything,
but she cannot sell peace.
She can fill your hands with gold
and leave your soul in chains.

Come out, come out,
before the smoke ascends.
The world is a shop
where the glory ends.

Only Jesus saves.
Only Jesus saves.
His blood can cleanse you,
His voice can raise.

Come out of her, My people.
Come home to the King.
Babylon sells everything,
but Christ gives life for free.

[OUTRO]

The checkout will close.
The music will stop.
The merchants will weep.
The towers will drop.

But the Lamb will reign.

Come out of her.

Come to Christ.

Jesus is Lord.