Prisoner

A drunken carnival of self-destruction, where the bartender is the only priest and absolution is measured in millilitres. Here, every sip is an attempt to forget, every joke a mask covering cracks. The music blares, the sky is low, and conscience is somewhere in the cloakroom along with a coat that should have been picked up long ago. And it seems like fun - dancing, lights, clinking glasses - but behind it all is the fatigue of a man who tried to be better, but the devil changed the lock.

A hooligan's confession to bass and guitar, where a quiet ‘help’ can be heard between the riffs. Loud, dirty, honest. And so painful that you don't even know whether to feel sorry for the hero or order him another drink.