Description
Sometimes everything superfluous falls away on its own - the glitter, the words, the attempts to appear more complex. What remains is a single attraction, like the heat from the asphalt at noon: invisible, but felt with every cell. This is not about love in postcards, but about the kind that burns the air between inhalation and exhalation. When the light is not in the sky, but in the person opposite. And nothing else is needed. Only this pulse, this rhythm, this heat.
Lyrics and translation
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