The Syndicate

I slip in just when they start leaving
So I can hear the quiet song
I trace a little crack in the ceiling
There's a sacred roof above this all

Now the city's in my palm
Like a never—ending storm

I can hear a silent wailing
Right behind the flower store
A twitching tail from an old container
From this height, I can't see more

But then I feel the tiger crawl
And think of Bill Watterson

The letters he just kept receiving
They could hardly understand
A simple thing like honest being
A message written in the sand

Was it writing on the wall
Back in 1994?

I slip in just when they start leaving
So I can hear the quiet song
All the unsung voices that we never really bring along

Did we fall for the golden reaper?
Did we all just fail to see?
"