Beat's already under you—warm, steady, a little barroom-patient, with small bright bits flickering on top.

Voice comes in tired, just naming what a hell of a year it's been.

Listen to learned to swim—the sorrow won't stay down, and the beat just keeps walking.

A little weight comes off the track here, then it settles right back into the same tread.

There's the ask—good news—dropped straight into the groove, not as a lift.

Low end thickens under him again while he tries to get away from the old me.

Now the ask shrinks: all he really needs is a little good news.

Second verse, same unhurried walk—love keeps knocking and he stays home.

He folds the line down to at the end of my wrongs, still hunting for a right.

Chorus comes back the same way—still needing good news, still no big open.

Groove feels most locked-in here, upright and settled, while he keeps circling that same hurt.

Little good news again—and then he almost just says the little part twice.

Words drop out into long oohs; the beat keeps going without him spelling it.

Hook walks back in after that open stretch, same need, same stride.

Quick bright flash across the top, then the heavier feel comes right back under the repeat.

Late stack of the little ask—the track's starting to thin while he keeps saying it.

Bring me back to the middle, then one last little good news as the ground gives way.