The Hit

The track is like the habit of checking your phone, knowing that there is nothing good there again. And still - swipe, pin code, heart in throat. Because sometimes love is not about butterflies in the stomach, but about a bruise in the very place where they used to be.

Everything here sounds as if through the smoke of yesterday’s drama and the half-extinguished “we’ll talk later.” Note after note is like steps along cracks that cannot be repaired on their own. It seems as if the feelings have long been exhausted, but for some reason this is what holds on. Because habitual pain is also a connection.

The refrain cuts like a truth that no one said, but everyone already understood. And yes, maybe this is the same “downfall”, but how beautiful it is to drown in it to this beat.