POKOLOROWANA

It smells of cheap alcohol and expensive dreams. Everything around is bathed in soft neon, and life flows like colored vodka in plastic cups, a little crooked but beautiful. The sweetness of the candy mixes with the bitterness of pain, but in every sip, there's a stubborn "I'll get thru it anyway." The world seems to have gone mad, but my heart beats to the rhythm of the track, where instead of slogans, there's a simple belief in yourself. Even if there's silence and an empty glass left on the table, the feeling that you were yourself until the very end will remain. And that's probably enough to ensure the world doesn't win again.