Jawline

A noisy nite where fatigue smells of gasoline and champagne. Everything around seems beautiful: the Range Rover, the glitter, the music, as if life has been a success - but my eyes are already begging for silence. Someone is filming a music video, someone is counting boxes, someone is just trying to remember why all this started in the first place. Between the lines, there's a slight crisis of genre, where the party lasts longer than the dream, and all that remains of the glamor is a ringing in your ears. And still, pedal to the metal until the track or patience runs out.