Mesera

A bar confession set to the rhythm of tequila and heavy thoughts. There are no sophisticated metaphors here - only the directness of a man who seeks oblivion in every sip and orders “three more,” as if quantity could erase his memory. The text contains ironic flashes: a happy hour in which there is no happiness, the glint of wallets designed to cover up dull eyes. This is the music of nights when the fun sounds loud, but inside everything is still empty. And while the bottle goes around, all that remains is the hope that tomorrow this pain will also pass with the bar bill.