Non lo Sai

Drunken tenderness on the verge of confession. It's like a person is trying to drown their memory in a glass of Sprite with something darker, but the feelings still surface, like bubbles. There's an eternal, no-winner battle between love and habit. He seems different now, with concerts, accounts, and expensive bags, but just say her name and all the pretence falls away, leaving only a boy missing those eyes. Each line sounds like a confession that no one asked for, but that came out anyway. The love here isn't romantic, but the kind that scratches from within and smells of tobacco, weariness, and regret. It's hard to be faithful when you don't even believe in yourself. But it's even harder to let go of something that once made you feel alive.