The Sweetness Amidst Iron Dust
My life has been a series of cold gears turning in an
Rusty Cog
The Last Drop of Silver Rain
My world is a machine built from concrete ribs and iron veins,
Cold Milk on a Rusted Afternoon
The vending machine hums like a dying turbine in an abandoned sector,
The Mint-Green Oasis in a Concrete Wasteland
My life has been nothing but the rhythmic clanking of iron gears
Crimson Pulp on a Porcelain Porch
The city is a grinding machine, all steel teeth and smog-stained concrete.
The Porcelain Gear in a City of Rust
I am an anomaly in this city of grinding gears and soot-stained
Chrome Hearts in a Rain-Slicked Ruin
The city is just one big, polished scrap heap tonight. Asphalt slick
The Polished Gear in a City of Rust
This city is just one big heap of oxidized dreams, and I’
Oxidized Hearts Under a Neon Sky
I sit on the edge of this concrete precipice, my legs dangling
Sunlight on Rusted Heartstrings
I stand here where the salt air eats at every metal bolt
Silk Over Steel: The City's Softest Gear
I stand here, a polished gear in this vast, humming machine of
The Gilded Spark in a Steel Graveyard
I am sitting on the cold, corrugated ribs of this city—steel
