EMO HOES

No glamour, just cigarette smoke and the truth, which is a little embarrassing, but still nice to hear. The sound is saturated with the smell of night roads, cheap petrol and those conversations that only happen in the early hours of the morning, when all masks have already slipped. Here, there is no hero, but a person with a broken heart and a conscience in repair, who still knows how to love - crookedly, clumsily, honestly in his own way.

Every word is an attempt to explain why pain sometimes sounds more beautiful than happiness. It's not a confession, but a statement of fact: yes, everything is broken, but it's real. And somewhere between profanity and tenderness, something like a reluctance to give up slips through. Even if the world around him has long since stopped listening, he still speaks - because otherwise he cannot survive.