CRACKS IN THE MACHINE. LIQUOR. BEER WINE LOTTO. $2.99. COLD BEER. STEEL RESERVE 21. BETTER DAYS WERE A LIE. We are cracks in the machine, we don't go along to get along. We stand our ground, we're right, we're against everything wrong. Wake up every day and see the world turn cold, doing all we can before we get too old. We stand with like-minded p
100 winners chained us to this land. Yet everyone went quiet in your hand. An angel came and rode the morning white. Forget each other, both walk free tonight. I choose your curse again. Beneath the dying moon. Trade every promise morning for one more night with you. If freedom costs your memory, I'd rather walk the chain. Give me one life without
Born with a black heart, raised on rust and sand. Daddy's wrench and siphon hose are the lines on my hand. They say the world burned down before I drew first breath. All I ever knew was chrome and dust and outrunning death. Engines hot, tanks half full. That's a good day out here. Strap it down, eyes on the mirrors. Let 'em see no fear. I'm a daugh
DO NOT ENTER. WRONG WAY. Once again, we send off my war rig to bring back gasoline from Gas Town and bullets from the bullet farm. Once again, I salute my Imperator, Fury Road, and I salute my half-life war boys who will ride with me eternal on the highways of Valhalla. Witness me! Witness me! @DETROITNOMAD. SPEEDCULT. FORT ST.
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