Sparks in the void, anvil of the stars, Busan steel screams where the comet scars. Welded in silence, baptized in flame, Hull-breakers rise with a shipwright’s name. No chrome for the weak, no grace in the bleed, Just girders and grit for the ones who need.* Rust on the rails, but the engines don’t lie— We carve through the dark where the cowards die. Busan forged! (Thunder in the veins!) Ride the slag-fire hurricane! No retreat, no hollow crown, Burn the sky— BREAK THE GROUND. Plasma rain drills, but the shields hold fast, Mercs in the cockpit laugh at the blast. Titan-class dreadnoughts? Just scrap to rend, Busan’s teeth bite where empires bend. Ghost-drive humming, warping the night, Freighters scream cargo, we scream Fight! Black market engines, smuggler’s pay, We’re the rust-god hymn the void can’t slay. Busan forged! (Thunder in the veins!) Ride the slag-fire hurricane! No retreat, no hollow crown, Burn the sky— BREAK THE GROUND. You think stars are pretty? Try a welder’s glare. Every bolt’s a oath, every scar’s a prayer. The guilds can keep their gilded thrones— We’ve got drydock blood and asteroid bones. Deadzone’s breath frosts the cockpit glass, Mining colonies whisper, Busan, pass… But we don’t run when the pirates call— Broadside the reapers, watch the titans fall. Grav-tanks empty, the hull’s scored black, Still the forge-fires drag us back. No graves in the nebula, no flags unfurled, Just a salvage-hymn to the end of the world. Busan forged! (Thunder in the veins!) Ride the slag-fire hurricane! No retreat, no hollow crown, Burn the sky— BREAK THE GROUND. Yeah, the armada’s sleek, but sleekness cracks. When the Krell drag opens, there’s no turning back. You’ll beg for our rust, our dented creed— Busan’s the blade that makes you bleed. Busan forged… (Thunder in the veins…)
