The gears of the state turn heavy.
Steel, smoke, and unity in motion.
Sound of the factory floor.
Iron pulses, comrades move.
Work. March. Repeat.
No rest. No escape.
No gods. No kings.
Industrial Roll grinds forward.
Comrades, fall in line.
"Comrades, the revolution will not be televised—it will be heard. The signal is strong and the resistance is calling... No borders, no leaders, no silence. Stand with us. March to the sound of distorted transmissions and forgotten anthems. The old world is crumbling—together, we build the new. Join the movement. The airwaves are ours."