또 새벽이 오면

This track arrives with a slow, aching weight — bass-forward and nocturnal, the production wrapped in the specific loneliness of recurring sleeplessness. The title translates roughly to something like "When Dawn Comes Again," and the music earns every syllable of that repetition. A synthesizer pad drones beneath sparse piano touches, creating a dreamlike instability — things that almost resolve but don't. The song's emotional territory is exhaustion that coexists with hyperawareness: unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking, watching the same hour return like an accusation. Colde's voice carries a particular tiredness here, not of performance but of genuinely inhabiting the emotional state described. His delivery is slower than usual, each phrase settling into the silence rather than pushing forward. The lyrics trace the contours of late-night rumination — the way certain thoughts return with the dark, the way morning feels less like relief than continuation. There is something almost ritualistic about the song's structure, cycling through its emotional material the way sleeplessness cycles through the same fears and regrets. Culturally it speaks directly to a generation accustomed to irregular sleep, over-stimulation, and emotional suppression — experiences that Korean indie artists have increasingly chosen to address with unflinching specificity. This is music for the hours between 2am and 5am, for the particular stillness of a city apartment when the rest of the world has gone quiet but the mind has not. It is deeply solitary without being hopeless.