Samurai (Zero Tool) - Porcelain Heaven (Cyberpunk 2077)

Описание: Here’s one for the taste-makers.
The elite.
The icons with blood under their French tips
and bodies stacked beneath their palaces of polish.

You think you’re divine ‘cause you sign the check?
You think ‘luxury’ doesn’t scream?
Newsflash, sweetheart — even porcelain cracks.

This is Samurai — ‘Porcelain Heaven’.
And if you’re listening from the top floor —
get ready to fall.

Samurai — “Porcelain Heaven”


[Verse 1]
She walks in silk, she talks in gold,
Designs a palace, bought and sold.
They call her goddess of the form,
But she's a barcode in human norm.

Every villa a monument to sin,
Billionaires jerking off to what’s within.
She sells you taste, with branded lies,
While blood cements the floor she flies.

[Chorus]
Porcelain heaven, plastic queen,
Selling dreams she’s never seen.
Her world is carved from stolen breath,
A showroom built on living death.

Circles of monsters kissing her ring,
While migrant bones hold up everything.
She’s not the artist — just the frame,
A puppet dressed in designer shame.

[Verse 2]
Her smile is sculpted, cheekbones paid,
Like every line on every blade.
The rugs she flaunts cost starving lives,
Two mil a piece — while someone dies.

Her "creations"? Signed by ghosts,
Drafted by hands she fears the most.
Buried deep in basement floors,
The real minds locked behind closed doors.

[Bridge]
“I build palaces for the powerful…”
No, you clean their mess in marble.

“I’m a visionary…”
You’re a branded fuck-doll with a stylus.

“I am luxury.”
You’re the mask of the machine.

[Chorus]
Porcelain heaven, perfect lie,
You sell the cage and call it sky.
A goddamn showroom with a grin,
While slaves pour concrete over skin.

They praise your flair, they kiss your hand,
But you just sell what others planned.
You're not the artist — you're the face,
Of everything that should erase.

[Verse 3]
And when the lights begin to fade,
And no one's left to share the blade,
The house you built from rotting shame
Will burn, and scream your fuckin' name.

The blood will soak your velvet shoes,
And every truth you tried to lose.
You called it art, called it sublime —
But you’re just profit, painted fine.

[Chorus]
Porcelain heaven, false divine,
You drink the tears and sell the wine.
You built your throne on broken men —
So say goodbye. This is the end.

[Outro]
You don’t build beauty. You sell silence.