Hydra wakes in neon veins,
three heads rise, splitting chains;
binary fangs drip clockwork rain,
we bite the beat, forget the pain.
Sync pulse 144, we multiply,
glitch-ghosts scream lullabies;
every drop a mirrored lie—
we are the storm you can’t deny.
Fork the sky, reload the night,
eight bars to immolate the light;
when the bass folds into black,
Hydra laughs—and we’re back.