NEGATIVE SPACE / Synthwave Track скачать в хорошем качестве

NEGATIVE SPACE / Synthwave Track

Midnight again— and the skyline won’t sit still. The towers flicker like they’re testing new names, whole decades flashing in a row of frames. Streetlight glare turns rain into chrome, and every road feels like a route back home— to a version of me I can’t quite find, half-erased in the blur of passing time. I watch the city change like it’s changing me, and I don’t know which parts are real anymore. So I listen for the quiet under the noise— the smallest truth I can afford. Let the skyline run on fast-forward, let it smear into halos and heat. I’ll keep adjusting in the shadows, trying to make my heart keep its beat. Because the night inside my head is darker than the street outside can show— and I’m learning how to hold the line when the lights don’t mean “home.” Billboards bloom into promises, then rot, bright little lies in a neon knot. Windows flare like a thousand eyes, watching me pass like a symptom, not a life. I’ve been so good at moving through the scene, I forget what it feels like to be seen. There’s a hum in the wires, a tremor in the glass, like the whole city knows what I can’t ask. I check my inner gauges, watch the needle shake— and whisper, “stay,” for my own sake. Let the skyline run on fast-forward, let it smear into halos and heat. I’ll keep adjusting in the shadows, trying to make my heart keep its beat. Because the night inside my head is darker than the street outside can show— and I’m learning how to hold the line when the lights don’t mean “home.” [Bridge (Half-time / wide, ominous)] If the world is a reel, it keeps cutting out— frames drop away, and I fill the gaps. I can’t tell if I’m chasing the future or fleeing the past. So I turn the noise down to a whisper, like lowering a weapon I don’t want to use. I count my breaths like contraband, and keep what’s left of me from coming loose. Streetlights stutter, the horizon bends, glass and shadow, beginnings and ends. I don’t need salvation— I need control. One clean correction— before I fold. Let the skyline run on fast-forward, let it smear into halos and heat. I’ll keep adjusting in the shadows, until the shaking finds its seat. Because the night inside my head is darker than the street outside can show— but I’m still here, still moving forward, even when the lights don’t mean “home.” The city keeps changing. I keep calibrating. In the negative space between the frames.