Robię to co chcę

A hot street in your pocket and honesty that stings - it sounds like a conversation with the mirror after promises that have long since grown tired of wearing masks. The rhythm beats on the scraps of the past: underground passages, an old Nokia in your pocket, chances carved out of gray days - all mixed with bubbles of champagne on a new hood. Hooligan pride and stubbornness sound like a mantra: don't fit into the mold, don't ask for permission, and don't justify yourself to those who are used to giving orders.

There is a warm irony in this - as if someone from the street politely smiles at their offenders and puts a blanket on their advice to keep them warm. The voice does not ask for applause; it says, “do your thing” - and in this simplicity lies freedom, which makes it a little easier to breathe.