The Knife In My Back

Friendship can also wear masks - it smiles, shares secrets, and then suddenly stabs you in the back. And bitterness remains: the smell of someone else's clothes, the echo of shared promises, and blood that cools not from the cold, but from betrayal. In music, this is the point where trust turns to ashes, and the word “we” shatters into sharp fragments of ‘I’ and “you.”