[Verse 1 – "Ashes in the Arteries"] Splintered in the silence where the sirens sing solemn, Iron ring columns, firestring problems. March through the mire with the mind of a marksman, Charcoal breath from the chest where the dark went. Arc-wired thoughts in the claws of a stronghold, Sharp-coded honor in the calm of the bomb-blow. Trench-born tongue with the rhythm of wrong roads, Syllables slit like a wrist when the song folds. Ink bleeds myths through the smoke of a bloodline, Shaped by the clash, carved bone into punchlines. Steel-bound script, every quote got a drum spine, Fire in the syntax—rage in the frontline. Truth cracked porcelain—poured from the oath-torn, Scars in the grid of the soul where the ghosts form. Kraeth Nico isn’t birthed, we’re storm-forged, War-born twin-edge, blood-built and war-torn. [Chorus – "War-Torn Reign"] I was war-torn, raised where the blade meets breath, Where the dreams burn slow and the fate breeds death. Tales etched in the marrow, rage deep-set, Kraeth Nico walks roads that the brave regret. War-torn, soul stitched with a scorched lament, With a voice that speaks peace, and a force unbent. Built from the wreckage, shaped in the storm's core— Every step’s revolution, every breath—War-Torn. [Verse 2 – "Verses in the Vortex"] Syllables spin like a cipher in a glass shell, Blades talk bitter in the shimmer of a past fell. Battle-hymn architect, crafting the last bell, Soundwave strategy—path where the ash dwelled. Voice like a vault—locked codes in the cadence, Lead-laced lectures in the bones of the ancients. Each word works like a storm in a statement, Floodgates crush when the rhythm gets patient. Calculated vengeance with the calm of a monk's eye, Storm-born scripture that split like a drum cry. Every metaphor fed with a sun-dry tongue tied, Still catch breath in the dusk where the numb die. Shadow-stitched justice, wound-deep and flame-hymned, Truth-script banner in the fog when the blame wins. Warfare waltz in a soul that's chain-thin— Still I rise, cut clear where the shame dims. [Chorus – "War-Torn Reign"] I was war-torn, raised where the blade meets breath, Where the dreams burn slow and the fate breeds death. Tales etched in the marrow, rage deep-set, Kraeth Nico walks roads that the brave regret. War-torn, soul stitched with a scorched lament, With a voice that speaks peace, and a force unbent. Built from the wreckage, shaped in the storm's core— Every step’s revolution, every breath—War-Torn. [Verse 3 – "Architects of Aftermath"] Blood-letter thesis with a reason that sears air, Every page placed in the rage where the gears tear. Frame cracked logic with a glare that the fear wears, Marked by the motion where the oath and the spear pair. Verse builds vision with precision in motion, Bullet-script rhythm in a prism of notions. Both war and wisdom—stitch it with devotion, Kraeth in the blade, Nico’s the ocean. Shadowplay tactician, kinetic in ethics, Every decision's a mission poetic. Wounds ain't weakness, it's proof I'm kinetic— Balance of a killer and a calm aesthetic. Sword-tongue sage with a gaze that's storm-churned, Forge my resolve where the long-lost mourn burned. Every breath breathes a rebellion reborn, This ain’t rap—it’s a blood-marked war term. [Verse 4 – "Cathedrals of Collapse"] Collapse breeds cadence, the chaos conducts me, Pulse of the fallen—my art is what's justly. Every lyric is a relic of a time that distrusts me, Yet I write peace in the places that crushed me. Ghost on the skyline, verse in the vortex, Break the facade with a blade made of context. Lines ain't bars, they’re spines to the cortex, Foundations built from the fire of the complex. Candle in a conflict, light on the anvil, Kraeth in the fury, Nico in the mantle. Dancing through the damage where the worlds dismantle, Every metaphor's a weapon, every hook—substantial. Blood in the banner, ink in the kingdom, Storms in my rhythm, truth in my dictum. If they bury this voice, then the silence will sing one— War-Torn symphony written in the system. [Chorus – Final Reign: Unyielding] I was war-torn, forged where the steel meets soul, Where the echoes of pain became dreams that hold. Etched in the dusk where the prophets unfold, This ain’t death—it’s the rhythm of a mind-controlled. War-torn, heart cold, voice pure inferno, March through the fire till the final return-o. Each word’s a hammer, each rhyme’s a sworn oath— Kraeth Nico eternal—War-Torn and war-close.
