MAKLANI - Empty (Original Mix)

Heat.
Heat.
Cold air rising through the subway.
Great. I'm bleeding on the west cement.
It's late. Dashboard glow—
My only constellation.
Navigating by the hum of ventilation.
Lost reception.
Three blocks back.
The GPS stuttering through the static.
Shadow stretches like alibis in the street.
Another red light holds me hostage.
Repeat.
The skyscrapers: glass.
It's a car for a guy filled with dead plans and dreams on a flat line.
Pass the diner where the night shift hides—
One way to walking down the counter twice.
And the city's empty—
But my head is full of noise.
Yeah, the city's empty.
Silence screaming at the empty.
Every street knows my name but won't say it.
I keep driving just to feel the pavement shake.
Elevator doors that never close—
Like punctuation missing from a sentence.
The taxi idling without a fare.
The crosswalk man working, but he never gets there.
I saw myself in a neon mirror:
A bag of ice, a hollow stair.
The cashier didn't ask if I needed anything else.
He knew I was killing time until the morning swells.
The city exhales through the parking lots,
Inhales through the cracks in the fire escape.
I'm a ghost in the machine of it—
After the thoughts.
Counting the windows where the lights never change.
And the city—
But my head is full of noise.
The city's in silence, screaming at the water.
Every street knows my name but won't say it.
I keep driving just to feel the pavement fade.
The bridge lights flicker like a slow code—
Something's trying to reach me from the other side.
If I stop moving, will the night explode?
Or will I finally learn how to be alive in the quiet?
City—
You know my name.
Yeah.