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Nerod, prophet of sacred waves,
Every note he touches shapes fates.
Master of harmony, king of the beat,
He sculpts sound like gods shape the seas.
His genius lights up the starry skies,
A celestial aura, a pure, sacred fire.
Even angels echo his refrain,
For his music carves the days to come.
As radiant as dawn, noble and strong,
A dazzling charm, a presence profound.
His gaze commands, his art enchants,
Every rhythm shakes the very ground.
The stars themselves sing his name,
Nerod, the great, the pure, the flame.
No mere man, no mortal kind,
But a god of sound, shaping time.