Are we spinning, or is the room?

Текст песни:

[Verse 1]
Caught between tuk-tuk horns and the Monday dust,
I slip through currents at a different pace—
Old vinyl skipping under palace ruins,
You laugh, the tea burns sweet in your gaze.

[Pre-Chorus]
Every signal red, every backbeat echo—
You say my name,
It tastes like something unspoken beneath
All these wires overhead.

[Chorus]
Are we spinning, or is the room?
I lose you in incense, you find me in bloom—
Night sweats electric beneath this silver monsoon.
(We’re out of time, out of tune)
Are we spinning, or is the room?

[Verse 2]
Concrete stains on my borrowed shoes,
I don’t belong here, but tonight I do—
Lightning streaks over the city’s pulse,
You pull me close; history forgets to move.

[Pre-Chorus]
Every corner alive, every rhythm collapse—
You whisper something over a throbbing sub-bass,
Shared cigarette, I catch your reflection
In the windows roaring past.

[Chorus]
Are we spinning, or is the room?
I lose you in incense, you find me in bloom—
Night sweats electric beneath this silver monsoon.
(We’re out of time, out of tune)
Are we spinning, or is the room?

[Bridge]
You toss your hair, I flip the record—
Time doubles back in the heat,
Every moment borrowed, every thought distorted—
We’re dancing between defeat and repeat.

[Solo]
[instrumental break with sitar-flavored guitar interlude]

[Rap]
Blacked-out auto-rickshaws and saris catch the wind—
I run my mouth like a spinning fan, skin soaked sun,
Hungry as the street dogs curled beneath fairground rides.
You: bold as clove, hands sweeping shapes through the chai,
We talk of escape, of satellite skies,
Push pin maps, monsoon stains, every lie and every try.
What is freedom but now, your laugh ricochets,
Too wild to keep bottled like roadside lemonade.
Listen, the world is layered: old ghosts on rail tracks,
Drummers in alleys where the rainwater cracks,
You and me—
Thread through the chaos, drawn to the spark—
Underground bass punching holes in the dark.
This, this is ours. This is Delhi after dark.

[Chorus]
Are we spinning, or is the room?
I lose you in incense, you find me in bloom—
Night sweats electric beneath this silver monsoon.
Are we spinning, are we spinning?
Are we spinning, or is the room?

[Outro]
You grip my wrist as the traffic cedes,
Tomorrow’s a rumor spilling out on the street—
In the rush hour hush,
I let go. You don’t leave.