Beneath the shadow of gilded towers, we tango, In the rhythm of silent dissent, piercing the veil. Underneath the neon moon, we're not hallowed but hollow, Our voices, a tempest lost in the capitalist gale. In the heart of the city, our dreams take flight, Through the mirrored maze, catching reflections of might. Bauble and shine, yet, behind the radiant light, Lies the unseen chains, the unheard plight. That’s our jazz, a symphony of resistance, a silent roar, A call for equality, peace, justice, and more. Born equal, we stride, our spirits can't be confined, In this strife, we find the music, the rhythm of a conscious mind. [outro][end]
