I'm Not There For You

Somewhere between hysteria and enlightenment, a strange calm is born. When it doesn't hurt anymore, but you still remember how much it did. The voice sounds like a severed wire - it sparks, but it no longer reaches out to anyone. This isn't about revenge or victory - it's just a dry cleaning receipt: "emotions - non-refundable." In every chord, you can hear that same "that's enough" - without pathos, without tears, just with a hint of confidence in a raspy voice. It's as if the heart has finally returned from a business trip where it was dragged by the hair and fed guilt. Now it's home. And the door is locked from the inside.