Freakshow

Hollow beats and sparse lyrics, as if lengthy explanations were unnecessary. One “Heat” is enough to make the air thick and thoughts race faster than the heart. The music doesn't tell a story; it's more like hot asphalt in summer - it ripples, vibrates, and everything around seems slightly unreal.

These sounds don't try to please; they're like flashes - hot, fragmented, but all the more honest for it. It's as if someone turned on an internal metronome and said, “Here, keep the beat, you'll figure it out yourself.” And even if the lyrics are slow to provide answers, the feeling of heat lingers for a long time - like after a dance, where fatigue and euphoria intertwine.