(Intro – whispered over static) Oh, say can they see… the ceiling? (Oooooh, the ceiling) [Beat comes in slow] A colossal tower made of gold coins, crumbling paper currency, Fragile Neoclassical columns on the brink of emergency. Stormy sky swirling with ominous clouds, Upside‑down flag waving over panicked crowds. (Spoken) At the base of the tower: Politicians in suits, Wall Street brokers, moguls in power, Frantically adding more gold, more printed money to the tower. Some desperate, some laughing, some sipping lattes, As the world crumbles in slow‑mo matinees. (Pre‑Chorus A) In the foreground, peasants in ragged business‑casual weep, Laid‑off workers, baristas, gig souls losing sleep. Falling debris rains down while they pray, Golden eagle on a shattered column staring our way. (Chant – B) Shadows whisper, walls confide, Nowhere left for me to hide. Truth is buried, lies are sold, Life is scripted, hearts are cold. (Flip – A x B) (OOOOOooh saaaay, can you see…) THE CEILING, As golden coins and shredded dollar bills rain from the sky? Eyes behind the glass, they see every step, every thought, every plea, But they never hear the people cry. (Chorus – call & response) Scream in silence, voices drown, We’re all puppets in this town. Under the crumbling tower of debt, Place your bets, place your bets. Scream in silence, hit the ground, Lightning cracks without a sound. Truth is buried, lies are sold, Life is scripted, hearts are cold. (BREAK – cinematic) The camera starts low, looking up at the tower, Crack down the middle like a judgment hour. Chunks of gold and paper fall in slow‑motion rain, Michelangelo’s frescoes collapsing in economic pain. (Verse B over glitch) Every step, every thought, every plea, Numbered, tracked, archived, locked in a dark marquee. Eyes behind the glass, they see, But they never set a single worker free. (Bridge – A x B intercut) The crowd runs frantic, clutching phones, Checking stocks while breaking bones. Some gave up, just sipping lattes, As the algorithm tallies up our yesterdays. Shadows whisper, walls confide, Nowhere left for us to hide. Scream in silence, voices drown, They pull our strings from uptown. (Beat drops harder) Truth is buried, lies are sold, Piled like gold in vaults of mold. Life is scripted, hearts are cold, But this tower’s cracking, losing hold. (Chorus – big, layered) (OOOOOooh saaaay, can you see…) THE CEILING coming down on me? Crumbling tower of debt in a storm‑lit crown, All the peasants in the foreground, everybody get down. Scream in silence, voices drown, We’re all puppets in this town. Under the crumbling tower of debt, Can you hear that final threat? (Outro – slow‑mo collapse) Camera swoops through the crowd in a painter’s light, Deep shadows, golden highlights cutting through the night. Upside‑down flag fluttering, signal of distress, As dust and lightning swallow up this gilded mess. Scream in silence, voices drown… Truth is buried, lies are sold… Final wide shot: The tower falls, the system folds.
