I stumbled onto “Gotta Be A Way Out” by Night Swims a few days ago, and I’ve been replaying it without guilt ever since. It’s one of those songs that grips you quietly, by mood and by moments.
When it starts, there’s a hush, like the world just paused. The instrumentation isn’t massive or overblown, there’s space between the notes, and that space lets the vocals sit in your ears. The voice has this raw tremor that sells every syllable. You hear someone pushing, reaching, maybe even pleading. The line “Gotta be a way out” lands like a weight shifting in a room.
Midway through, there’s a swell. It doesn’t hurry, it slides in as the drums tighten and the guitars bloom. Even when it grows, nothing feels forced. The transitions flow easily, with verses that let your breath settle, and then richer moments that lift everything up.
The lyrics come in flashes, like fragments of memory more than clean statements. “It tastes good, cut lines, hang my mind, swim to the edge of the world and time.” Those lines catch you off guard, and you can’t help wondering, Where is this pulling me? It’s hazy and emotional, looking for an escape but never saying from what. That mystery keeps you listening.
My favorite part is when he sings “Traveled all I could, trembled under thumbs, begging to be young, gotta be a way out.” There’s tension there, between what’s done and what you wish you could undo. And the way the instruments respond, soft in the quiet spots and louder in the bursts, mirrors that feeling perfectly.
By the end, you don’t feel like everything is fixed, but that’s fine. It doesn’t wrap things up neatly. It just opens a small door, a breath of possibility, that repeating line: “Gotta be a way out”. It lingers after the last note fades. If you like songs that leave space for feeling and reflection, give this one a spin. And follow Night Swims on social media and Spotify to keep up with what’s coming next.
