More songs by Антон Токарев
Description
There is a bitter irony in every line - like a cocktail of wine and sharp text messages sent at night. There is no room here for pleas and promises to “start over” - only a dry “not my problem” and the certainty that the circle will close anyway. A dance of hurtful words and sudden confessions, where anger is intertwined with tenderness, and the yellow light of a traffic light becomes a metaphor for the eternal “wait a little longer.” The music is like the night after a quarrel: noisy, drunken, but painfully honest.