“Sobredosis” is the soundtrack of a turbulent Friday night when emotions run louder than the city sirens. Íñigo Quintero paints the picture of someone wandering Madrid’s neon streets at 2 a.m., overwhelmed by memories of a love that is both magnetic and poisonous. Every verse swings between fascination and anxiety: he misses the way he once gazed at that person, yet he knows their connection feels like veneno that burns. The city becomes a concrete maze where reputations crumble, headlines scream, and truth hides in the shadows - all while he dodges phone calls and searches for one safe place to breathe.
At its heart, the song is about an emotional overdose - the rush you crave and the crash that follows. Quintero’s narrator wants to be the other’s voice, but words fail him; he longs for comfort, yet the very environment that draws him in ends up hurting him. The repeated “no, no, no” captures both refusal and desperation, echoing the push-pull of a love that dazzles even as it destroys. In short, “Sobredosis” is a late-night confession of fragility, obsession, and the struggle to find clarity in a city that never turns down its volume.