PUSH PUSH

A hollow bass, concrete walls, and that special kind of fatigue when the night is ending but the adrenaline hasn't worn off yet. The world is divided into those who ‘push’ and those who just look out the window - here, they choose the former. Each verse smells of cold metal, cheap tobacco and confidence forged from the dirt of the streets.

The words come like footsteps on wet asphalt - fast, heavy, with an echo of danger and self-respect. Behind the bravado, you can hear not just strength, but experience - the kind that isn't talked about, but carried on your shoulders. This isn't about heroes or showing off - it's about surviving in a rhythm where every ‘push’ is another breath to keep from freezing.