Track Insight / Lyrics
Neon pulses down the alley, a hiss of engine in the night.
Wheels kiss the cracked asphalt, dust fly like lazy ghosts.
You pull up at the corner, rewinding a weathered vinyl track.
The city breathes in flickers, a lone old taxi honks a story.
You see the geese, hatched in honed steel, squawking over a pond of glass.
They stand on frost, like rusted horns, arguing with a hiss.
Your palms feel the winter's bite, the snapshot of the tundra they believe.
You swear it's a crew riding blind, chasing echoes of the street.
Turn the wheel, feel the surge – the surf rock tide of neon drips.
The synthwave cuts through the static, a shimmering sea's hush on midnight.
Growl, loud as a drumbeat, the words stick like rain on glass.
Layered harmonies rise, a choir of streetlights casting silver.
You watch them, riding the frost, quacking over silver, no chain breaks.
A proverb flicks in your head: 'No flat land can hold a horse's steps.'
Your old radio sings, a timbre of copper and chrome, sliding down the sky.
You know a cold ride, but you keep on scrolling like a humming wheel.
Turn the wheel, feel the surge – the surf rock tide of neon drips.
The synthwave cuts through the static, a shimmering sea’s hush on midnight.
Growl, loud as a drumbeat, the words stick like rain on glass.
Layered harmonies rise, a choir of streetlights casting silver.
You slam the brakes on a concrete cloud, the cold air clots with night.
A frozen pond echoes back your name, a cry matching the city’s hum.
You and the geese fade like the last traffic light's ember.
The taxi doors close – the streets rear on you, a final ride.
