The time-space tunnel was always one for pulp...
The city's windows, like secret brail in the night...
When illuminated, the Hell's Kitchen blazes...
In power, there are chains...
Mad spirals draw out a map in the dark...
There is no need to say his name born of fire...
And from afar, that's what it looked like...
The city's windows, like secret brail in the night...
When illuminated, the Hell's Kitchen blazes...
In power, there are chains...
Mad spirals draw out a map in the dark...
There is no need to say his name born of fire...
And from afar, that's what it looked like...
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