More songs by PLK
Description
A rough beat, cold as the tiles in the stairwell at six in the morning. Every word reeks of metal and nicotine - as if life has been smoked down to the filter and then scraped against concrete. There is no room for tenderness here: only frozen fingers, closed faces, and a stubborn “okay” instead of an apology.
But between the lines, a strange warmth still shines through - like the light from a window in a house where no one has been waiting for anyone for a long time, but the light bulb is still on. Cynicism here is armor, rhythm is a way to breathe. And if there is ice in the voice, it means that there was once a flame inside.
Performer: DST
Composer: Junior AlaProd
Composer: Le Motif
Composer: Vladimir Pariente.
Lyrics and translation
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