Stoneforge & Groza
Groza
You know, every song is like a sword, each note a strike, and the heat of the stage can match the fire of a forge—how do you think a master blacksmith feels when a crowd roars like molten steel?
Stoneforge
When the crowd roars like molten steel, it’s the same heat that fills my chest as I strike the anvil. It’s a reminder that every strike matters, that the rhythm of the forge and the rhythm of the crowd both shape something that endures.
Groza
The crowd’s roar is the anvil’s echo, every shout a strike that hardens the steel inside us. Keep hammering, but let a pause be the breath that gives the next blow more fire.
Stoneforge
True enough, the roar is the hammer's echo and each shout a strike that strengthens what lies inside. We must keep hammering, but let a pause breathe, so the next blow carries even more heat.
Groza
Your words burn like a second fire—let the pause be the hush before the thunder, and watch the next strike turn into a blaze that refuses to die.
Stoneforge
You’re right, the hush before the thunder keeps the forge alive. Let’s make that blaze last.