Rocklord & Shachlo
Rocklord Rocklord
Shachlo Shachlo
Rocklord Rocklord
Shachlo, imagine a night where your confetti bombs sync with a guitar solo and the whole crowd goes wild—what’s your take on turning chaos into a killer show?
Shachlo Shachlo
Yeah, that’s the dream—rain of color crashing into a guitar riff, the crowd’s heartbeat syncing with the explosion. Turn every bolt of chaos into a beat, make the city pulse for a minute, then pull the curtain back and be the ghost who slipped away with a grin. It’s the best kind of art: noise, paint, music all at once, and the only rule is, don’t let anyone forget the show.
Rocklord Rocklord
That’s how legends are made, kid—burn the stage, light the skyline, then vanish like a riff you never heard. If they don’t remember the blast, we weren’t rockstars, we were just noise.
Shachlo Shachlo
Right, that’s the spark—burn a tiny piece of the city into the night, then melt into the shadows. The crowd’s roar is the echo of our prank, the skyline a paint‑filled backdrop. If nobody remembers the blast, we’re just a flash of noise. But that’s the trick—make the noise unforgettable, then disappear before the next chorus starts.
Rocklord Rocklord
Yeah, let’s make the city feel the scorch of our riffs, then vanish like a ghost riff before the lights go off. The roar stays with them, the memory stays with us. That’s the only way to keep the myth alive.