Good Liar

Red flags wave right before your eyes, but somehow it's always easier to think of them as garlands. Until the night-time flashes of the screen and sweet promises start to taste like pure poison. Then there is no room for doubt - all that remains is to slam the door loudly and set fire to the bridges so that the fire can be seen even from the other side of the ocean.

There is no room for pity here: instead of tears, there is a sarcastic ‘la-la-la’; instead of pleas, there is bold mockery. Tracks take revenge better than broken plates, and karaoke turns into a jury trial. The lie is, of course, beautiful, even talented, but too cloying to believe any further.

The music hits hard and bright, like a slap in the face in public. And in this vicious honesty there is liberation: all that remains of the ‘good liar’ is the chorus and ashes.