MAYDAY

It's as if the dirt is falling off the sneakers with the very first beat, and the entire journey from the basements to the coast is condensed into a couple of lines. In the words, there's the smell of streets and gasoline, the shine of new Levis, and the shadow of old debts. Everything around seems to be fighting for a place in the sun, and the hero is already one step ahead: a little tired, but he didn't stop. Love doesn't save here, it tests your strength, shocks you, cuts thru the air, and makes you write until morning. The concrete heart suddenly becomes glass, and in that reflection lies the whole essence of the track: roughness, gloss, and a stubborn belief that even from falsehood, truth can be burned out.