Will you come to Tech Noir with me?

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The city I once knew as home
Is teetering on the edge of radioactive oblivion
A three-hundred thousand degree baptism by nuclear fire

I'm not sorry, we had it coming.

A surge of white-hot atonement will be our wake up call
Hope for our future is now a stillborn dream
The bombs begin to fall and I'm rushing to meet my love
Please remember me
There is no more

GUNSHIP - Tech Noir