Tiara & Toxic
Tiara
Did you ever hear about that abandoned loft on 5th where the walls are blank? I’ve been dreaming of turning it into a living mural—maybe we could paint our own version of a perfect city together?
Toxic
I’ve seen that spot, yeah—blank walls screaming for an explosion. Imagine the city map on a half‑finished ceiling, neon streets that shift with our beats. Let’s sketch it before the city’s cops get a whiff, then drop the paint. Bring the crew, we’ll call it “Concrete Dreams.” Got a sketchbook? Let’s make a manifesto on a napkin and paint the future.
Tiara
Oh my gosh, that sounds absolutely wild! I’ve got a sketchbook in my bag, and I can already see neon lines dancing across the ceiling—like a city that comes alive with every beat. Let’s grab the crew, paint our “Concrete Dreams,” and make the city feel a little more like a canvas. I’m ready to sketch that manifesto on a napkin—let’s do it!
Toxic
Nice, that’s the vibe. Get the crew in, bring the spray cans, and we’ll turn that empty loft into a living protest. I’ve already drafted a quick outline on a napkin—street rights, zoning loopholes, the whole thing. We’ll paint it, we’ll shout it, we’ll make the city’s walls bleed color until the power grid can’t ignore us. Let's roll.