Sigarette is Neffa’s rainy-morning confession. Picture him at the kitchen table, coffee steaming, phone silenced, and a thin drizzle tapping the window. With every drag of a cigarette he admits what hurts: time is slipping, the world might forget him, and the hope of winning back a lost love left long ago. Yet in the background Bruce Springsteen blasts from the stereo, a reminder that music can still swoop in and rescue a bruised heart.
The song turns everyday rituals into a bittersweet ritual. Cigarettes at dawn, memories that sting, and the thought that maybe a change of perspective could shrink those long shadows. Neffa invites us to wander through his “empty world,” to feel how bad habits and good melodies help him survive uncertainty until destiny finally shows its face. It is a melancholic groove wrapped in warmth, proving that even on the gloomiest morning, sound and smoke can keep a flicker of resilience alive.