Where rust-born winds whisper forgotten dreams,
And fire devoured towers made of thunder,
Rise silent heirs of old and broken schemes,
Among the wrecks of cities torn asunder.

Steam and steel — the lifeblood in their veins,
They march through ash and dusk with burning vision,
Where gears still tick in time's eternal chains,
And hope survives in shattered cold precision.

Above the void where morning’s light once died,
They carry hope through ruins long forsaken,
Each step defies the echo of the tide,
Where death's no foe — but fate, once proudly taken.