The Hidden Hand moves, patient and still, Bending the city to its quiet will. Whispers slip through the midnight air, Truth dissolves, and none can care. Windows flicker with borrowed light, Debt coils tighter, day turns to night. The streets obey, the people sleep, While shadows crawl in silence deep.

The Hidden Hand moves— silent, patient, everywhere. Whispers curl through midnight air, truth dissolves, and none can care. Towers scrape, the clouds all bend, markets twist, and debts don’t end. Shadows crawl where hope should sleep, corruption pulses, running deep.