Limewire

Everything here is on edge - the tenderness, the fear of saying too much, and that familiar “I'll tell you later” that somehow never comes. The song sounds like inner panic wrapped in a soft blanket: it seems warm, but underneath there's a tingling sense of anxiety. It's one of those tracks you just stand in the kitchen listening to, squinting in the morning light, and suddenly you remember that everything is a little different than it used to be. Even your favorite band.