LALALA

The sounds of this track seem to come from molten asphalt, where the evening smells of gasoline, cigarette smoke, and lemon from cheap soda. Everything here is a little skewed - the days are all the same, music blares from open windows, and dreams of glamour and fame are mixed with routine and tired jokes at the gas station.

The rhythm rocks like an old Citroën on bumps: up and down, but still moving. Between the lines - fatigue and stubborn pride, when everything around you is falling apart, and you just turn up the volume and hum your “la-la-la” so you don't hear reality cracking. A little rough, a little sad - but with that unmistakable taste of the street.