“7” catapults us into the chaotic heart of a love story that feels like a bar fight and a seaside getaway all at once. Over a shimmering indie-pop beat, Gazzelle lists everyday snapshots — from grabbing a drink to boarding a speedboat — that should be romantic, yet everything keeps unraveling. The couple spar with each other and with themselves, so much so that even simple things like “non mi tocchi più il sedere” (you don’t touch my butt anymore) become evidence of a deeper disconnect. The singer is “impigliato nei tuoi cambi d’umore” (tangled in your mood swings), but he cannot let go; he begs, “Liberati per le sette e portami dentro di te” — be free by seven and let me in.
Beneath the playful count-off “uno, due, tre… sette,” the number seven turns into a deadline, a ritual, a last-chance checkpoint where the lovers might hit reset. The song balances irony and melancholy: soap bubbles burst beside an inner apocalypse, and a planned swim stops before it starts. Ultimately, “7” is an anthem for anyone stuck in a loop of break-ups and make-ups, clinging to the hope that, just maybe, the next hour — or the next seven — will bring the love back to life.