Metal oh Metal, you make me feel fine,
your beautiful riffing seems to me divine.
Crushing and deadly, tour de force,
heavy with thunder, like the god's of Norse.
Distortion is my master,
and Delay is my slave.
This is never-after,
what will proudly be my grave.
The Legacy I wish to leave,
will be one that you can hear.
I don't wish much to be seen,
but to give you bleeding ears.
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