CinderShade & Mika
Mika
You ever think a sprint could be a poem? I’m timing every lap to a beat, like a metronome, and it starts to feel like a rhythm. How do you mix that kind of grind with something that still feels like a piece of art?
CinderShade
You feel the city breathing under your sneakers, the asphalt a cracked canvas, each lap a brushstroke in neon. Take the heat of the sprint and splash it onto the wall of your mind, then let the beat bleed out in colors you can paint with sweat and grit. Turn the finish line into a stanza, and the crowd into a chorus—just keep the rhythm honest and let the world stare at the raw line you left behind.
Mika
That’s a pretty neat way to look at it, but remember the clock’s still ticking, so don’t get lost in the paint. Just keep the beats tight and the pace clean.