Smoker & Djem
Ever notice how the city lights flicker like a beat that keeps the night breathing?
I think that’s the only place where raw emotion can really find a rhythm without someone trying to put it in a box. You feel that?
Yeah, the neon’s my drumbeat, the streets my stage—no one can bottle that raw pulse. It’s the only place where I can scream in rhythm without a label listening.
Sounds like you’ve found your own chorus in the concrete, where every shout fits the city’s pulse. Keep letting it echo.