///*****/// [Intro] A wounded moon hangs over an elevated highway slicing through a chrome metropolis, The hour is thin, the air is edged with rain. We count the names the powerful erased, Then carve them back in thunder on the stone. [Verse 1] Their screens repeat the portrait of the victor, Their loudspeakers pronounce the future sealed. Yet in the workshop, harbor, wood and starship, A thousand quiet hands refuse to yield. We tune the wire until the note is honest, We test the edge and set the bearings true. No myth will save the ones who wait for rescue; The living make the road they travel through. [Pre-Chorus] Every shadow has a border, Every tyrant has an hour. When the heart rejects the order, Even dust remembers power. [Chorus] Neon riders, burn the border line! Let the hammering heavens hear our cry. Neon riders, burn the border line! We were born to stand, not wait to die. Through the smoke, through the wound, through the night that calls us liars, We will carry living iron, we will carry living fires. Neon riders, burn the border line! Raise the truth until it cuts across the sky. [Verse 2] They promised peace, but sent us patrol drones and a tyrant speaking from every screen. They dressed the oldest hunger up as law. I watched the faithful trade away their names, Then in the ruin I uncovered a motorcycle headlamp shaped like a white star; No jeweled relic, only proof made bright. It held the warmth of everyone who fell, And showed my empty hands what they must fight. [Chorus] Neon riders, burn the border line! We were born to stand, not wait to die. Through the smoke and through the wound, carry the living fire. Neon riders, burn the border line! Raise the truth across the sky. [Bridge] If I return alone, remember this: we will ride until the city remembers freedom. No monument can breathe for those it buries, No sacred word can make a falsehood clean. The future is not granted by the mighty; It starts wherever ordinary hearts convene. [Guitar Solo - a duel of two guitars: the first neoclassical and precise, the second wild with whammy screams, joining in a harmonized final climb] [Rhythm guitars hold the central motif while bass and drums widen the battlefield.] [Verse 3] This is the tale of young outcasts outrunning a surveillance state. The weak became a wall around each other, The lost became a road across the rain. We learned that hope is neither soft nor silent, It bites the hand that feeds the world despair. It lifts the fallen standard from the gutter, And makes a kingdom out of those who care. [Final Chorus] Neon riders, burn the border line! Let the last horizon answer to our cry. Neon riders, burn the border line! We have learned the dark can bleed and empires die. Through the smoke, through the wound, through the years that tried to break us, We are neither owned nor ended; every scar will remake us. Neon riders, burn the border line! Raise the truth until it cuts across the sky.
