[Intro] [Sound of a heavy hammer hitting an anvil: CLANG! followed by a rusted gear turning] [A dirty, funky Bassline starts, accompanied by a distorted Slide Guitar] [Toto - Spoken, weary but smiling]: Asé... (Power) Nothing is dead, ñeri. It's just... paused. Africa signed the contract on a napkin. So I pick up the pieces. Let's fix this mess. [Verse 1] [The Groove locks in. African Polyrhythms played on junk.] I walk the Pale, the gray mist on the road, Carrying the weight of a heavy, rusted load. Ogun walks beside me, smelling like ozone and grease, Looking for a fight, looking for a piece of peace. I got a Constantine coat made of burlap and wire, Lighting a cigarette with a holy, stolen fire. My logic is fractured, my skills are a joke, But I fix the reality that the fancy people broke. [Chorus] [Explosion of Funk & Ritual Chants. The "Waa-ta!!" is a rhythmic shout.] HANDS OF THE SURI! (Sew it up!) STITCHING THE VOID WITH A NEEDLE AND A CUP! FISTS OF THE WAA-TA!! (Break it down!) THE KICK IS A GLITCH IN THIS DIGITAL TOWN! I AM THE SAINT OF THE SECOND-HAND SOUL! I AM THE HALF THAT IS MORE THAN THE WHOLE! WAA-TA!! (Crash!) SURI! (Heal!) THIS IS THE DEAL! [Verse 2] [Music slows slightly. Disco Elysium vibe - Internal Monologue style.] [Toto - Whispering to himself]: (Limbic System: It hurts, Toto. The iron is cold.) (Inland Empire: No, brother. It sings. Listen to the rust.) I don't need a temple, I don't need a shrine, Just a screwdriver, fe, and a bottle of wine. I hit you to save you, I break you to mend, The loop is a circle that never will end. My style is a drunkard, my stance is a lie, But I'll reboot your heart before you can die. Laroyé! Open the path! [Bridge] [Industrial Chaos. Saxophone screaming like a dying engine.] [Percussion Solo: Pipes, oil drums, and hand claps] [Toto - Preaching]: They threw you away? Good. Now you are dangerous. Now you are mine. Africa doesn't make trash. Africa makes artillery. [Chorus] [Maximum Energy. Choir of Cyborg-Monks joining in.] HANDS OF THE SURI! (Sew it up!) STITCHING THE VOID WITH A NEEDLE AND A CUP! FISTS OF THE WAA-TA!! (Break it down!) THE KICK IS A GLITCH IN THIS DIGITAL TOWN! I AM THE SAINT OF THE SECOND-HAND SOUL! I AM THE HALF THAT IS MORE THAN THE WHOLE! WAA-TA!! (Crash!) SURI! (Heal!) FIX THE WHEEL! [Outro] [The music decomposes into a rhythmic clanking of machinery fading away] [Toto]: Está pronto. (It's ready.) It ain't pretty. But it works. [Sound of duct tape being ripped] Waa-ta...
