Step onto La Rue and you instantly feel something is off-kilter. Cortex paints the morning street like a stage where everyday life and surreal daydreams collide. People drift about "free like air," but their blank stares hint at quiet panic. Our narrator wanders nue—emotionally exposed—while brittle "paper bones" and grass poking through the cobblestones turn the cityscape into a whimsical yet fragile dream. Scents you cannot name swirl in the air and time flips upside-down: "from tomorrow to yesterday, everywhere, always, only love."
What does it all mean? The street becomes a living metaphor for modern existence—exciting and limitless, yet disorienting. In one breath the singer soars, drunk on life, yelling with joy; in the next, the low rumble of the crowd drags her back to reality. La Rue is a playful but poignant reminder that freedom can feel both exhilarating and unsettling, and that the pulse of society forever tugs us between personal dreams and the collective rhythm of the world.