Medusa

A dirty beat, stripped-down truth, and a bit of philosophy at the bottom of the glass. Here, street poetry sounds like the confession of a man who has seen too much to believe in fairy tales and realized too early that goodness does not pay the bills. Everything is shrouded in smoke, anger, and irony, but somewhere between the rhymes slips a longing, the very thing that makes even a gangster feel alive.

The world around seems to have faded from cynicism, but inside there is still a spark - memories of childhood, of mother, of those who did not live to see it. And amid all this chaos, where even feelings are sold wholesale, there is only one thing that remains real - to survive and not stop seeing the signs, even if they come in the form of scars.