Caillou

The song seems to contain a whole archive of random images - a courtyard, a button, a radiator, drizzle outside the window, a schoolyard, and adults shouting at each other. All of this comes together in a stream that resembles the inner monologue of a person who is tired but still “continues, continues” - like a stuck cassette tape that cannot stop.

There is no gloss here, only raw honesty: pain, fatigue, small observations turned into sharp fragments of text. The words take on a rhythm, and out of the chaos emerges a strange music of survival - restrained, slightly tired, but with a kind of stubborn tenderness towards life, even if it cuts deep.