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“Oh! Our last and final tag is Prodigy.”
XX, JULY 4TH, FIRST AVENUE. | Fear explodes in the interlude, chaos distorts the encore, valor does not blur into the veins, but a glitch of respite. Exposed drumsticks are held, beating the drum in gallantry like rockstars they are. A bass synthesizer is in the corner waiting for another hand to clutch on it tighter, and a voice—oscillated yet unfiltered—echoed in a low-end frequency. Everything hums one single word, a gnarly milestone of him, that marked on the docket.

On this day, he arrived with such a daring vibrato to rock the hall amidst the upheaval. Of vigilant, valiant meander, he sets sail to the tour in honour—preserving through the hardest crosses of the ground. Another victory to celebrate, thus, this enticement is to beckon every visitor to memorialise it together! (One more chorus and outro.) Grab the furbelowed overlay that lays out—if you find any obstacles to use it, be at ease to land on @Kusakabee, shall the rhythm flow with backbeats and blast the diorite in an intrusion.

— RECKON THE DAY TO STEP UP.
AMPLIFY THE GLAM CHORDS OF NAME, #KUSAKABEFESTA.
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