Broadcast Edge from the Circuitdelic Laboratory.

The city looms like circuitry behind the gear.

The guitar leans like a sentient sentinel—black, sharp, waiting.

It’s a confrontation: analog soul versus digital skyline.

One stringed body vs. a million windowed ones.

In the corner, it waits.

Not plugged in. Not forgotten.

A machine of wood and wire,

positioned just beneath the towers.

It doesn’t need permission to speak.

Only the next voltage of intent.