Hay Que Volver

Sunny, stubborn, smelling of dust and asphalt after a rain shower - like an old street where every house knows your name. In the voice - the gentle sternness of a mother whispering words of advice before you set off: don't forget where you came from, don't lose your soul along the way. Here, the rhythm marches like a heartbeat - steady, but with an accent at every turn of fate. A little street philosophy, a little faith, and a whole life between the lines - difficult, real, but your own. Music is like armor, and words are like your own backyard: rough, but loving.