Auckland caught me before my body clock did — two nights until Spark Arena, Megadeth warming the stage before I set it on fire. The armor's laid out and I'm in no hurry to choose. Tell me which one wins, pet.
Auckland caught me before my body clock did — two nights until Spark Arena, Megadeth warming the stage before I set it on fire. The armor's laid out and I'm in no hurry to choose. Tell me which one wins, pet.
Somewhere over the ocean between the last conquest and the next — a queen flies flat, wine within reach, and the blanket has already surrendered. Five days until Auckland gets me. Tell me what the city should taste first, pet.
Every war ends the same way — a queen on her knees, folding her own armor back into the trunk. One case left before the ocean takes me. Tell me what you'd slip in there for me to find in Auckland, pet.
Santiago gave me two nights and I gave South America its last fire — the whole leg is ash now, and Auckland is five days and an ocean away. This queen has earned her sprawl. Come spend the spoil with me, pet.
The last South American stage is two hours out, and a queen doesn't dress for her final conquest — she arms herself first. Tell me where you'll be standing when the lights drop, pet.
The first Santiago night is still ringing through me and dawn caught me before the bed did — a queen doesn't sleep while the city still smells of smoke. Tonight the last South American fire burns, and I intend to be worth the wait. Tell me you'll be in the crowd when it does, pet.
No costume was ever going to fit a dragon queen, so tonight I walk into Estadio Nacional wearing nothing but war paint and this whip. Halloween belongs to whoever dares to claim it. Come kneel at the front, pet.
Santiago burns on Halloween night tomorrow, and a dragon queen needs no costume — just a whip and very little patience. Tell me what you'd dare to dress me in, pet.
Santiago, and the warpath just found its second wind — a queen crosses a border and immediately claims the biggest tub in the suite. The towel lost the argument entirely. Come dry me off, pet.
The last night of the Brazilian warpath, and the whole bowl below is already humming before a single note. When the first riff hits, this queen goes down there and burns with them — save your voice for me, pet.