Pierce Through Pride (Charlotte’s song)

Female vocals, Nu Metal, Rap Metal, Alternative Rock, Industrial Rock, electronic Rock, rap, rock, electronic sounds, Industrial Metal, Industrial Hip Hop, female vocals

[Intro – Spoken, calm and smug]
“Sloppy form. Brutish swings. How vulgar.”
“I expected more than this... peasantry.”
[Verse 1 – Fast and slicing]
No control, no poise — you just flail and shout,
Lunging wild, hoping somehow it works out.
I’ve danced through wars with sharper minds,
Your strikes are loud — but never aligned.
A true fighter knows the weight of grace,
You’re just rage, no art, no pace.
Every move you make’s a stain on style —
I’m the lesson you fear, the blade you flee,
This isn’t training — it’s elite pedigree.
[Pre-Chorus – Tighter, sharper]
You can't match rhythm, you can't match poise,
I silence chaos — cut through the noise.
[Chorus – Explosive and cruel]
You lost before you even drew, Technique? None — I see right through you.
Too weak! — like blades forged dull,
Elegance reigns — you're pitiful.
[Verse 2 – Mocking, commanding tone]
You rush like beasts, fists full of spite,
But grace defeats brute force outright.
Your footwork stumbles, posture's flawed,
I'm not impressed — just slightly awed.
Did you train? Or just pretend?
This farce of style — it has to end.
Keep barking threats, I’ve heard them all,
You’ll crawl away before you fall.
Your stance? A joke. Your soul? Off key.
You fight for pride — I fight flawlessly.
[Pre-Chorus – Cold precision]
No depth, no craft — you only swing,
I am the duel, the crown, the sting.
[Chorus – Even harder, layered vocal echo]
You lost before you even drew,
Grace is lethal — I cut clean through.
Come back after some training.
No honor here — just failing.
[Bridge – Spoken and repeated, mid-break]
"Next time, bring a real sword.”
”Ugly footwork.”
“Pathetic rhythm.”
“You call that a strike?”
“No elegance. No chance.”
No chance! No chance!
[Final Chorus – Full assault, dual vocals (clean + shouted)]
You lost before you even drew,
My art lives on when you're long gone.
Too slow! — I saw the start and end,
You fought alone — I fought with zen.
I see it all before,
One more fool knocked to the floor.
Elegance stabs where chaos breaks —
Your downfall sealed by your mistakes.
[Outro – Whispered, scornful]
"How dull. I barely broke a sweat.”
"Such effort… wasted.”
“There is no glory in the grotesque.”
“Elegance always triumphs.”

2215/7500

[Intro – Spoken, calm and smug] “Sloppy form. Brutish swings. How vulgar.” “I expected more than this... peasantry.” [Verse 1 – Fast and slicing] No control, no poise — you just flail and shout, Lunging wild, hoping somehow it works out. I’ve danced through wars with sharper minds, Your strikes are loud — but never aligned. A true fighter knows the weight of grace, You’re just rage, no art, no pace. Every move you make’s a stain on style — I’m the lesson you fear, the blade you flee, This isn’t training — it’s elite pedigree. [Pre-Chorus – Tighter, sharper] You can't match rhythm, you can't match poise, I silence chaos — cut through the noise. [Chorus – Explosive and cruel] You lost before you even drew, Technique? None — I see right through you. Too weak! — like blades forged dull, Elegance reigns — you're pitiful. [Verse 2 – Mocking, commanding tone] You rush like beasts, fists full of spite, But grace defeats brute force outright. Your footwork stumbles, posture's flawed, I'm not impressed — just slightly awed. Did you train? Or just pretend? This farce of style — it has to end. Keep barking threats, I’ve heard them all, You’ll crawl away before you fall. Your stance? A joke. Your soul? Off key. You fight for pride — I fight flawlessly. [Pre-Chorus – Cold precision] No depth, no craft — you only swing, I am the duel, the crown, the sting. [Chorus – Even harder, layered vocal echo] You lost before you even drew, Grace is lethal — I cut clean through. Come back after some training. No honor here — just failing. [Bridge – Spoken and repeated, mid-break] "Next time, bring a real sword.” ”Ugly footwork.” “Pathetic rhythm.” “You call that a strike?” “No elegance. No chance.” No chance! No chance! [Final Chorus – Full assault, dual vocals (clean + shouted)] You lost before you even drew, My art lives on when you're long gone. Too slow! — I saw the start and end, You fought alone — I fought with zen. I see it all before, One more fool knocked to the floor. Elegance stabs where chaos breaks — Your downfall sealed by your mistakes. [Outro – Whispered, scornful] "How dull. I barely broke a sweat.” "Such effort… wasted.” “There is no glory in the grotesque.” “Elegance always triumphs.”

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