Foul demons of rain-soaked grit and grime, street trash scourge of gutters and filth, breaking bottles shattering the dark against the wall of dawn’s squalid breath.
Hold the night, may it never end.
*This song title’s translation references going into battle, or a soldier headed for war; appropriate as this feels like a psychotic, amphetamine-grind march into certain, gleeful street / bosozuku battle.
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