More songs by NewDad
Description
The heart is left wide open, and the city quietly licks up its pieces like a thieving pastry chef. The pain of memories turns into a strange ritual: fragility is served like a drug, and self-flagellation suddenly seems like a spicy hobby. The vocals are like a knife that is sharpened quickly: the pain is clear and almost precise. What remains is the bitter taste of truth and a light, almost indulgent irony about how the habit of torment manages to return home.
Lyrics and translation
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