Текст песни
Too close - back the fuck up, read the room,
Your bad day’s breathin’ down my neck by noon.
Elbows talk louder than your fake “excuse me”,
Crowded like hell but everybody wanna use me.
Phones up, heads down, zero shame,
Same dumb rush, same tired game.
Smile glued on like it’s part of the dress code,
Pressure in my chest, yeah, it’s ‘bout to overload.
No drama, no crime, just nerves on red,
Whole city wired wrong inside the head.
Get out my space — yeah, personal space,
We bite our tongues just to keep this pace.
Fake calm face, jaw locked tight,
Everybody’s cool till the switch flips white.
One more word, one wrong glance,
This ain’t rage — it’s a stress response.
Escalator died, someone blocks the way,
Passive-aggressive Olympics every day.
“Have a nice one” said through gritted teeth,
Everybody’s civil, nobody’s at peace.
Rent on my back, clock on my throat,
Deadlines chew while the bosses float.
No bad guys here, no master plan,
Just too many lives in a tight-ass can.
We don’t wanna fight, we just can’t breathe,
Too much noise for a little relief.
Not insane — just overstimulated,
Not violent — just heavily aggravated.
Crowds press in, patience gets thin,
One bad second from losin’ it.
Back the fuck up — that’s the sign,
Too damn close to cross that line.
No respect? No rewind.
Personal space — draw the line.
Get out my space — yeah, personal space,
Same tight streets, same fast pace.
No saints here, no one’s safe,
Everybody’s fine till somebody snaps.
No blame to throw, no flags to raise,
Just pressure stackin’ day by day.
Still we breathe, still we wait,
Same damn crowd, same narrow gates.
Tomorrow hits — same replay,
Personal space…
Yeah. Right.
