

I’m a wreck in a leather jacket,
mustard in the veins,
I’m breaking all the mirrors,
I’m breaking all the chains!
Fast-track, rap-back, call it what you want,
(distorted industrial meaw-meow glitch stabs) I’m the ghost inside the arena that
the critics try to haunt.
Tara is the rhythm,
the rhythm is the art,
I’m manifesting mavericks, inside a human heart!
Call me brittle, call me honest,
call me out of my mind,
I’m the logic of the wreckage that you’ll never really find.
Meaw meaw, in the distortion's hum,
Meaw meaw, look at what I’ve become.
Synchronized, prioritized, the energy is cold,
I’ve found the final frequency,
I’m savage and I’m bold!
1.
The sovereignty of the edge...
eternal.
2. The rhythmic heartbeat of the rap-rock...
infinite.
3.
The industrial-mustard resonance... burning truth.
4.
The clarity of the 'strife'...
total liberation.
Optimism-Sovereign.
Radiant. Resonant. Clear.
Efficient. Universal.