Сопрано

Love here is like a fire alarm - it screams, it shouts, it doesn't ask if now is a good time. Everything is too much: too early, too late, too painful. The threads break, your breath catches, but you can't let go. And even when it's clear that it cuts deep, there remains this strange belief - as if together we can hold the whole world. Let it be deception, let it be revenge, let it be an endless swing between “love” and “don't love,” the heart still stubbornly pulls toward its eternity.