Lyric

In the shadows of the night, when the city lights gleam

There's a figure with a vision, crafting a dream

With a spray can in hand and a message to send

It's the legend, the myth, Banksy, on trend

Yo, let me tell you 'bout a man with no face

Banksy's the name, street art's his space

From Bristol to the globe, his work’s a trace

Of rebellion, revolution, in every place

He creeps in the dark, no fame, no spotlight

Just a mission to expose, wrongs in plain sight

His art’s a weapon, fighting the fight

Against the power, the greed, the blight

Banksy, Banksy, painting the town

With truth on the walls, turning frowns upside down

From stencils to murals, his art wears the crown

In the gallery of streets, he's renowned

Politicians, they tremble, at the sight of his tags

For every piece he paints, there's a message that drags

Corruption, injustice, he rips off the rags

Of society’s lies, with a heart that nags

A girl with a balloon, floating away

A statement on dreams, that often decay

From rats in the alley, to the dove in the fray

His symbols speak volumes, in a silent array

Who is this phantom, with an artist's soul?

A vandal, a hero, breaking the mold

His identity’s a secret, a story untold

But his art, his message, is pure gold

Banksy, Banksy, painting the town

With truth on the walls, turning frowns upside down

From stencils to murals, his art wears the crown

In the gallery of streets, he's renowned

His works are fleeting, but their impact stays

In the hearts of the people, in a myriad ways

A critic of the culture, a beacon that sways

The minds of the masses, in these modern days

Auction houses bid, for his shadowy fame

But Banksy’s true value, isn't in a name

It's in the dialogue sparked, in the social game

In the whispers and shouts, it’s all the same

Banksy, Banksy, painting the town

With truth on the walls, turning frowns upside down

From stencils to murals, his art wears the crown

In the gallery of streets, he's renowned

So next time you walk, through a city so grand

And you see a piece of art, that seems unplanned

Remember the ghost, with the spray can in hand

It's Banksy, the artist, the voice of the land

His works are fleeting, but their impact stays

In the hearts of the people, in a myriad ways

His identity’s a secret, a story untold

But his art, his message, is pure gold

So next time you walk, through a city so grand

And you see a piece of art, that seems unplanned

Remember the ghost, with the spray can in hand

It's Banksy, the artist, the voice of the land