Почему

Hot despair in a shiny wrapper of confidence. Every word is like an attempt to prove that pain can be drowned out with bass and autotune. Jealousy, mixed with vanity, hangs in the air: it sounds like it's about love, but it comes across as an interrogation. That mixture of bravado and resentment is the exact emotion when you want to slam your fist on the steering wheel and turn up the music louder so you don't have to hear your own thoughts. And there's a truth in that rudeness: who hasn't tried to prove they deserve more, simply because losing is too painful? It's not even about love here, it's about the wounded "I wish she had chosen me." And even though it all sounds dirty, an evil echo still hides in the longing for someone who can't be brought back.