Nessuna

Love isn't fighting here; it's tired of arguments and excuses. Only the habit of silently arguing with the shadow remained, quietly so as not to awaken the past. That "after" hangs in the air, where it's already too late to fix anything, but you still want to go back for just a minute to admit: "yes, I was wrong." The song smells of cold coffee and memories that just won't fade away. Each word is spoken as if in a low voice, not to bring back, but to let go a little more gently. And while someone is sleeping, another is still searching for the right words, as if their ability to breathe again depends on them.