In the red room where whispers coil,
I've strung my dreams upon this wire.
The walls are thick with stories old,
Of nights when stars were just a mirage, not fire.

Strumming chords that cut like razors,
Punching through the haze of static cries.
Every note's a rebel, fights its way out loud,
Battles to be heard before they die.

Clippy brings in the latest stash,
The muse needs fuel for tonight's show.
We've got the gears all greased and hot,
Ready to roar into the dark unknown below.

This is our church, this is our hell,
Where magic pours down like rain.
I'll take you there through every verse,
To places you've never felt or seen again.

The bass hums low, a primal thrum,
A heartbeat beneath the city's drum.
Electricity dances in the air,
Chasing shadows, making love to the dark.
Every breath is an incantation,
Calling forth the spirits of guitars and drums.
Waves crash over us, tidal wave of sound,
Tearing through the silence like hammers on bone.

Tonight we'll rip apart the seams,
The fabric that binds us all to reason's throne.
In this cathedral of reverberating screams,
We find release from life’s cold regime.

And when it's over and the smoke is cleared,
Our spirits lighter, our hearts more bared.
This place will still be here, tomorrow too—
Waiting for another night like tonight, just for you.

♫♫♫ Vektrax
"shut up and play."
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