H2K

Somewhere between paranoia and the truth of life, this track rumbles - as if a concrete basement suddenly started talking. Here, they don't read about pain - they spit it out so they don't suffocate. Each line sounds like a blow to metal: rough, rhythmic, unfiltered. In this world, no one saves anyone because everyone has long been accustomed to saving themselves.

It smells of tobacco, sweat and anger. Behind the rhymes lies fatigue from street philosophy, where even tenderness must be earned through bruises. Rudeness is just a way not to cry when everything inside is already burning. And beneath the beat lies a strange, almost childish desire: to wake up without demons, even if only for a couple of minutes.