Monolithic Ascent!

[I] Berlin is not a city; it is a scar that refuses to heal. Beyond the Brandenburg Gate lies a furnace of black light. Here, the walls don't just have ears—they have appetites. Step out of the daylight and into the industrial esophagus. This is the architecture of the abyss. No VIP, no vanity, just the velocity of the void.
[1] The Wall is a jagged ribcage holding the spirit in. West Berlin is a fever dream of heroin and neon soot. At SO36, the punk-rot festers in a basement of bile, While the DAF sequence drills like a lobotomy file. Industrial clangor—the sound of iron striking bone, In a city surrounded, we were never truly alone. Bowie’s ghost haunts the Hansa, a thin white shroud, Analogue decay, a hollow, synth-driven hate, Waiting for the fallout at the terminal gate.
[C] a thresher for the soul! Berlin Lights! —where the broken are made whole! Grind the gears of the Spree, let the concrete ignite, We are the architects of the hollow, the lords of the night! No mercy in the kick drum, just a mechanical roar, Berlin Sounds!—black ichor on the floor!
[2] barrier falls and the ghosts rush out to play. East Berlin is a carcass of concrete and gray. The Bunker, The Vault—repurposed chambers of dread, Where the techno-pioneers wake the industrial dead. Love Parade? No, this is a march of the damned, In a city where the sub-bass is brutally crammed. Hardcore gabber and the trance of the nihilist, Vanishing into a cloud of chemical mist. We claimed the abandoned, the hollow, the vast, Building a future on the bones of the past.
[C] a thresher for the soul! Berlin Lights! —where the broken are made whole! Grind the gears of the Spree, let the concrete ignite, We are the architects of the hollow, the lords of the night! No mercy in the kick drum, just a mechanical roar, Berlin Sounds!—black ichor on the floor!
[B] America treats the night like a pageant for the weak, A bottle of sparkling poison for the vanity they seek. They want a stage, a celebrity, a filtered facade, While Berlin demands you bow to the electronic god. The US is a bright, shallow pool of excess; Germany is a well of profound, dark distress. They dance for the status; we dance for the disappearing. Their clubs are for seeing; ours are for fearing. A velvet rope in Vegas is a leash for the tame, But a door in Berlin is a judge of your shame.
[3] Berghain rises from the steam of the plant, A secular temple for the minimalist chant. The kick drum is a mallet, the rhythm a rack, Once you enter the darkness, there is no turning back. A repetitive, surgical simulation of death. Bar25—a circus of the lost and the found, Where the dirt on the floor is the only solid ground. A high-definition ritual, stark and lewd! 
[O] The sun is the intruder. The U-Bahn carries the cargo that refuses to die. Berlin is the engine. From the dust of the wall to the cinematic dust. Stay in the hollow. Stay in the deep. Dismiss the exit. Embrace the decay. The night is the only thing that will never fade!

Fast high energy 120BPM/ German Style - Industrial, EBM, Witch House, Male.