Through streets that blaze with neon, raw and wide,
You walk, a primal hymn in leather bound;
The pulse of night beats fierce within your stride,
A growl of truth that shakes the hollow ground.
Your voice, a jagged flame, consumes the air,
Yet warms the souls who dare to feel the fire;
In chaos’ arms, you find a temple there,
Where rage and rapture shape the same desire.
No mask can cage the eyes that see through fame,
No crown can bend the bones that dance to dust;
Your body’s art, unbroken, none can tame,
A vow to howl when silence turns to rust.
And so you ride, the passenger of flame,
Through life’s mad streets, still wild, and still untamed.
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