Imagine a 21-year-old rapper who feels like a ticking time-bomb, his only weapons are words and he is determined to launch himself "fino al sole". Rosso Di Rabbia paints that fiery red of anger: Anastasio wrestles with inner "ghosts", sticky doubts, and the fear of being disinnescato (defused) before he can truly explode. Every beat is a pulse of bottled-up energy that refuses to be silenced while cameras click and onlookers ask, "How do you feel?" The answer is panic, raw and unfiltered, shouted in a loop that mirrors an anxiety attack.
Yet the song is more than a personal outburst. Anastasio turns his rage toward a spectacle-hungry society that drinks up emotions, drains songs of their magic, and locks the artist in a cage of photos and applause. He mocks the idea of the failed "terrorist" whose bomb was always a farce, hinting that an artist must sometimes sabotage himself to survive the spotlight. In the end he repeats, "Non volevo sprecarla così, la mia rabbia" (I didn’t want to waste my anger like this), transforming fury into a bittersweet anthem about authenticity, youthful rebellion, and the high price of turning pain into performance.