[Intro – Sampled Voice, grainy radio static] “Broadcastin’ straight from the rusted bones of America… This one’s for the sinners… the synth-fed, chrome-damned devils of the wasteland…” [Verse 1] She got a halo made of sparkplugs, Gasoline lipstick, ready to burn. Jukebox prayers on a vinyl crucifix— She rides the serpent when the engines turn. Blood on the mirror in a motel scream, Televised dreams with a guillotine gleam, Jackknife saints in a dragstrip row, Hellbound teeth on a radio show. [Chorus] Chrome fangs and neon veins! Dancin’ with the dead in the static rain. White noise gospel, graveyard grace— Turn it up loud, let the demons taste. Chrome fangs and neon veins! Backseat preacher with a black cocaine. Voodoo volts and siren flames— Broadcast sin in electric chains! [Verse 2] Steel-boned witch with a cat-eyed stare, Burnin’ rubber down a crosswired prayer. Motorhead hymns and a two-headed crow, Riding shotgun with a horror show. Low-ride thunder in a coffin suit, Plastic messiah in patent boots. Twist that dial where the dead still speak, Bleed that beat till your circuits freak. [Bridge – Spoken sample, robotic voice modulated] "This transmission is cursed…" "—and the new gods of static are hungry…" [Chorus – Repeat, more intense instrumentation] Chrome fangs and neon veins! Dragstrip angels in shattered chains. White noise gospel, graveyard grace— Crank it up louder, erase your face. Chrome fangs and neon veins! Digital venom in the devil’s name. Sermons screamed through cracked remains— Welcome, child, to the rust domain! [Outro – Spoken/sampled] “This is the end of the end… We now return you to your regularly scheduled apocalypse…” (mechanical laughter echoes, cut to distorted silence…)
