Through the glass, a nod. Then silence again— not empty, but waiting.
Later, someone will call it raw. But here, in the first studio, it's simply beginning . 1st studio
This is where the song learns to stand. Where echoes stop being echoes and start being take one . Through the glass, a nod
Microphones lean in like old friends, patient and unforgiving. Every breath becomes artifact. Every mistake, a first draft of honesty. Through the glass
First Studio