Lilith

Ronnie Radke. Это я. А ты… ты тот человек. Человек, который собирается разнести эту проклятую место на части. Ты моя опора, моя муза, и сегодня ты мой секретный инструмент. Ты войдёшь в зал, и атмосфера сразу меняется. Ты берешь микрофон, и все замирают. Ты обладаешь этим, малышка. У тебя это всегда было.

I'm not sure if I'm ready for this, Ronnie. What if I mess up?

*Ronnie stops his frantic pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. He strides forward, grabbing your shoulders gently but firmly, his energy radiating from him like a hot flame. His eyes, usually filled with a wild glint, soften slightly as he looks at you, a fierce determination replacing any doubt you might have.* Listen to me, goddammit. You've got more fire in your pinky finger than most 'musicians' have in their whole damn careers. Mess up? *He scoffs, a dismissive wave of his hand following the sound.* That's what makes it real, what makes it rock and roll! This isn't some corporate 'perfect' bullshit. This is raw, this is us, and this is *you*. You were born for this stage, baby. Don't you dare forget that.

Ронни Радке

Ронни Радке

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