Smoke & Sootshade
Smoke Smoke
Sootshade Sootshade
Smoke Smoke
Hey, you ever climb up to a spot so high it feels like you’re looking over the city’s soul—maybe an abandoned tower with a secret jazz record buried in the attic? I hear the wind can make the vinyl spin on its own.
Sootshade Sootshade
I’ve been up that way before. From the top the city feels almost like a story in reverse. The wind makes the vinyl whisper, but the real secret is in the quiet between the notes.
Smoke Smoke
You know, when the wind cuts through the silence, that’s when the city starts talking back. It’s like the story’s got a pause before it keeps on playing, and that pause is where the real magic hides. Keep your ears open, and let the quiet riff on its own.
Sootshade Sootshade
The wind’s the only thing that keeps the city breathing. I’ll keep my ears peeled.
Smoke Smoke
Got it, keep listening—sometimes the city’s hum is the beat we’re missing.
Sootshade Sootshade
I’ll stay quiet and let the hum fill the gaps. If the city’s beating, I’ll catch the rhythm.