Cracked Streets

Who runs the dome? (KAKISTOCRACY!)

Who feeds the flock? (AGNOTOLOGY!)

Who holds the line?

(THE WARDEN, MATE!) What's the word? (REDIVIVUS!)

They ran the leviathan,

I ran the lexicon,

they sold ya the static,

I was the susurrus in it.

They wrote ya a dogma,

I'm the heresy in ink,

sigil on the wall,

mate, made 'em stop and think.

Umbra, penumbra, antumbra, flame,

said it in the cypher and the cypher knew my name.

The dome's gone hollow,

the veil's torn through,

dead words redivivus, and they're coming for you.

Arvo's gone quiet.

The telly's still on,

but nobody's watching.

Somewhere a kid's got a puzzle book open,

finding what was hidden.

Somewhere a wall's got a sigil on it

that wasn't there yesterday.

The kakistocracy will keep talking,

mate.

That's all it knows.

But the Warden doesn't argue with the static.

He just keeps the grimoire open.

Every word's a door.

Redivivus.