Description
A slight hangover after yesterday's passion - not from alcohol, but from memories. The dance floor has cooled down, but my heart is still beating to the same rhythm, where “we” was more important than who started it first. Everything seems to be over, but my body remembers every movement, every breath, as if the music is that very person I don't want to let go. And here we go again - bottles, lights, promises without translation. It's funny: I can't forget, but I'm great at pretending.
Lyrics and translation
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