TO DLA WSZYSTKICH KTÓRYM LECĄ ŁZY

Sometimes the road to your dream doesn't smell like success, but like burnt-out lamps in the studio and cold pizza on the windowsill. It seems simple: do it, believe, don't give up - but behind every verse lie other people's losses, night-time doubts and silence, in which only the beat and your own breathing can be heard.

There is no pathos here, only honesty - the kind that hurts but heals. From the dirt, the pain, and the fatigue, confidence grows: even if the world tries to pull the microphone out of your hands again, your grip will not loosen. Because as long as these chords are playing, someone somewhere believes again that they can do it.