Pray, Pay, Obey: Song Lyrics on Religious Power and Repression

My face beside the holy book. The gods decide where

you can look. The Friday speech is on repeat.

Morality police patrol the street.

I ban your songs, I ban your

dance. Then book a private

show in France. Silk and perfume behind my door.

I preach restraint and order more.

Hands up high, eyes down low. There's only one thing you need

to know.

Pray, pay, obey.

God gets the credit, I get paid.

Whoa, down on your knees. Nothing says love like the

secret police. Pray, pay, obey. Love your

leader every day. Sing along, but watch what you

say.

Pray, pay, obey.

Oil money and a golden throne. Your missing brother won't come

home. A woman speaks, the camera's cut.

A cell swings open, a mouth stays shut.

Your daughter can't go out alone. Mine sends postcards

home from Rome. The palace lights, the prison bars.

Same electricity, different stars.

Hands up high, eyes down low. Smile for the cameras, here

we go. Pray, pay, obey. God

gets the credit,

I get paid. Whoa, down on your

knees. Nothing says love like the secret

police. Pray, pay, obey. Love your leader every

day. Sing along, but watch what you say.

Pray, pay, obey.

Who let the women lead the march?

Who put those banners on my guards?

I said my throne was heaven-sent.

Where the hell's my

regiment?

Pray, pay, obey.