ミスター・ブルースカイ

The song sounds like a nighttime conversation that happened by chance and then, for some reason, lingered in the air. The words in it are not confessions, but reservations, tears that are easy to blame on the darkness, because it's easier that way. It's all about people who know how to hold themselves together and lie confidently, but in the end still seek each other out in the half-asleep silence.

There is a stubborn, almost childish desire in it to pull out what is hidden deeper: unexpressed feelings, unfulfilled dreams, unspoken “I'm sorry.” The music stretches like a cold wind, but warms like a breath nearby. This is a story about how hard it is to let go, but even harder to stop trying.