21, 22, 23 pulses with the restless energy of early adulthood, turning the ages themselves into a pounding drumbeat that counts down your carefree years while you try to figure out what comes next; over gritty guitars and Henning May’s gravel-lined vocals, the song paints a vivid picture of students shuffling between bars and shared flats, shrinking their dreams so disappointment stays small, blaming the haze of nightlife for their stalled ambitions, and secretly panicking at the thought of becoming a sensible thirty-something. It is at once a celebration of youthful freedom and a confession of quarter-life confusion, inviting listeners to sing along, raise another beer, and admit they still have no idea where they’re headed.