Senfoni

The world doesn't collapse loudly - it happens somewhere inside, between a breath in and a breath out. Everything seems alive, but my body feels like plastic, and my thoughts are like static from a broken radio. Love and anger have long since switched roles, playing scenes without a director. Outside, it's a show; inside, it's a front. Each line sounds like the confession of someone who has seen too much and held on for too long. It contains both a philosopher arguing with fate and a weary soldier laughing amidst the ruins of his own faith. Here they dance with demons to the rhythm of synthesizers, test their strength against chaos, argue with God, not for an answer, but simply to feel alive. A heavy, almost ritualistic beat pulses like a heartbeat on the verge of fainting. And in this despair, there's a strange purification: when you accept the pain, you stop being afraid. It seems that's what the moment sounds like when a person first looks into the abyss and recognizes their reflection in it.