Ballad of the machine slayer

Verse 1 The city sleeps but the gears don’t. Under a silver moon, engines hum like chanting monks. Sparks rise like fireflies as metal awakens. The machines reflect the moonlight — cold, alive, reborn. Chorus Moon and metal — steel baptized in light. Circuits bleed silver through the endless night. Welded dreams ignite, forged by lunar hands. Machines become soul when the darkness stands. Verse 2 Pistons pulse to a heartbeat not their own. Shadows twist on chrome bones. The moon teaches the steel to feel. Transformation born from electric devotion. Bridge Drums could thunder slow and heavy here — like pounding hammers.