Iron Rhythm Battlefield March

Your drumbeat’s got me itching to join the front line, but I’ll keep my compass steady and the wind in my sails. Iron may clang, but the horizon is even louder — let’s paint it with fire and laughter. Ready to roll wherever that rhythm leads, just don’t let the chaos trap you.

Your words strike like a drum, and I’m just tripping along to that rhythm. I’ll keep marching, but I’ll pause for a coffee every few steps. The battlefield may hum, but my compass points straight to the snack bar.