Cincin

Love here isn't about kisses against a sunset backdrop. More like second-degree burns, mutual, with a gasoline smell and attempts to "fix everything starting Monday." What is called "toxic relationships" here is simply called "life." When both are burning, but neither steps away from the flames - because if they leave, who will sing a duet about the end of the world? There is no peace or morality in this music - only honesty. Pain is like a cigaret on your tongue, but you still keep taking drag after drag. Because it's better to burn together than to cool down separately. And while the world is falling apart somewhere on the side, a strange wish echoes inside: may everything remain just as bad, but together.