cos_dr
Ο Άρχοντας των Συνθεσάιζερς
The Screaming Silent Birds 
Verse 1
The birds of the city, they flew on the wire, Not a chirp, not a song, just a silent, cold fire. They had no vocal cords, but a noise in their throat, A desperate, sharp sound that the weak government wrote Off as just wind, as the market's soft sigh, While wearing the mask of the Populist Lie. "For the people, for profit," the false slogan rang, And down in the alleys, the silent birds sang—
Chorus
Oh, the scream, it erupted from throats made of glass, A primal, pure fury that couldn't quite pass Unnoticed this time, no, the concrete would shake! The people looked up and they started to wake. The Skyscrapers trembled, the corporate steel bent, As a sound not of music, but anguish, was sent Through the cold, empty heart of the capitalist scheme, Fueling the fire of a revolutionary dream!
Verse 2
Then out from the shadows, a figure appeared, A chubby old fiddler, whose presence was feared By none but the powerful, the slick men in suits. He pulled at the strings, not for melodies' roots, But a screeching cacophony, wild and undone, A soundtrack to chaos, beneath the cold sun. As his bow sliced the air, and the fiddle would cry, The corporate towers crumbled against the dark sky.
Bridge
The glass and the mortar, they rained down like tears, A century of greed disappearing in fears. And high above the smoke, where the blue turned to grey, A booming sound echoed the death of the day. A deep, rumbling laugh from a force unseen, The Architect chuckled at what had just been. The God of the forgotten, who finally saw The downfall of kingdoms built purely on awe.
