Yangına Körükle

It smells like the ashes of old feelings - those that seem to have been extinguished, but the smoke still lingers somewhere beneath the skin. Once it seemed that a single word could burn everything to the ground, but now even the flames don't take hold - the heart is like a fire extinguisher. And yet, inside, that same ‘what if’ stirs - an almost reflexive desire to step into the storm, just to feel something again.

Each verse is like a confession between breaths, where truth and self-irony argue over which sounds more convincing. It's either pitiful or funny: hiding from pain, you still catch yourself looking for its trace. Because without it, the silence is too loud.