Atwood Magazine is excited to share our Editor’s Picks column, written and curated by Editor-in-Chief Mitch Mosk. Every week, Mitch will share a collection of songs, albums, and artists who have caught his ears, eyes, and heart. There is so much incredible music out there just waiting to be heard, and all it takes from us is an open mind and a willingness to listen. Through our Editor’s Picks, we hope to shine a light on our own music discoveries and showcase a diverse array of new and recent releases.

This week’s Editor’s Picks features Louie Blue, Isaia Huron, Bec Lauder, Dear Boy, GUTHRIE, & Arno Sacco!

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There’s a fever in Louie Blue’s smoldering “In the Dark” – a restless ache that simmers in his voice, spills through his guitar, and lingers in every glistening groove. The song is raw and radiant, sharp and soulful; its edges glimmer with the grit of honesty and the sting of heartbreak. It feels both fragile and unflinching, a two-and-a-half–minute reckoning with love gone sour, intimacy decayed into cruelty, and the twisted ways passion can blur into pain. As brooding as it is breathtakingly brutal, “In the Dark” is catchy, cathartic, and utterly all-consuming – a bruised-heart banger that moves the body even as it weighs heavy on the soul. It’s Louie Blue at his boldest, turning turmoil into something we can’t help but play on repeat.

Just give me a reason
(In the dark)
Give me a reason
Why won’t you hold me
Like you used to
In the dark?

Put up a show now
I got something for you to see
(Say what?)
(What you got?)
I won’t get in line now
What is it that you want me to do?

A highlight off Louie Blue’s recently released third album Blood & Bones, “In the Dark” showcases a darker, more turbulent side of the 22-year-old Finnish-Swedish-Italian artist. A fully DIY creation, Blood & Bones was written, recorded, produced, and mixed by Blue himself – the product of four solitary years of experimentation, reinvention, and self-discovery. Where much of the album leans into calm reflection, spirituality, and intimate self-examination, “In the Dark” erupts as one of its most volatile moments – a fiery outlier born not from quiet introspection, but from cinematic inspiration. These darker themes help anchor the record’s wider palette of personal meditations in a visceral, real-world reckoning.

“The story is based on the movie I, Tonya,” Blue tells Atwood Magazine. “I felt very moved by the film, and wanted to write about the betrayal and desensitization of abuse.” That heaviness cuts right through the song’s bright, beat-driven surface. “In the Dark” plays like a groove-laden confession, its smooth exterior masking the violence and volatility at its heart. The lyrics speak of longing and loss – “Just give me a reason / why won’t you hold me like you used to in the dark,” Blue sings, his voice a hushed vessel of heartache and inner churn – but they also reveal the brutality of communication turned physical: “Throwing me against the wall, it’s the only way you know how to communicate.” It’s a chilling duality, desire entangled with damage.

Just give me a reason
Why won’t you hold me
Like you used to
In the dark
Give me a reason
Why won’t you hold me
like you used to
In the dark

Blue leans into that tension sonically as well, crafting something that’s organic and ambient, glistening and raw – what might best be called unfiltered soul. “I leaned into analog textures and a raw, organic production style,” he explains. “Everything was recorded on tape using live instruments and vintage techniques. I wanted the sound to be warm and imperfect – an antidote to today’s hyper-polished pop.”

The result is hypnotic: Shimmering riffs, a pulsing, relentless bass line, and a vocal delivery that moves like smoke, equal parts confession and catharsis. Blue’s guitar work dazzles through a combination of riffing and sustained notes, while his voice becomes as much an instrument as it is a vessel for emotion – stretching syllables and bending melodies to wring every ounce of feeling from them. The effect is entrancing, calling to mind the bold, idiosyncratic experimentation of artists like Mk.gee, Dijon, and Bon Iver – kindred spirits in their willingness to stretch musical boundaries and blur the lines between indie, soul, and alternative.

“Rather than chasing formulas, I leaned into unpredictability and risk,” Blue adds. “This is music that mirrors who I am, not who I’m supposed to be. It’s bold, honest, and alive. I wanted to make music that sounds like music again.”

Just give me a reason
Why won’t you hold me
Like you used to
In the dark
Give me a reason
Why won’t you hold me
like you used to
In the dark

He frames “In the Dark” as a necessary outburst within the broader calm of Blood & Bones: “It’s one of those songs I needed to get out of my system. Like a beast you can’t hold within or it could affect people around you.” That urgency bleeds into every note, the track’s groove carrying an undercurrent of volatility and release.

And while the subject matter is heavy, Blue hopes listeners find a sense of strength in it: “I hope that people will have fun with it, and realise how ridiculous we can get at times. I hope it gives people an empowering sensation.”

“In the Dark” ultimately stands as both a personal purge and an artistic statement: A song that stares into the shadows of intimacy, pulls out the contradictions, and sets them to music that is as messy, imperfect, and alive as love itself.

Throwing me against the wall
It’s the only way
You know how to communicate
(Bring it on now)

The sound of your heart
Is stuck in the dark

Isaia Huron’s “CONCUBANIA” feels just like silk – it’s smooth, warm, and utterly intoxicating. The opening track and title song to his cinematic debut album unfurls like a fever dream: Lush, suave, and soul-stirring, a seductive slow burn that leaves you tingling from head to heart. His voice melts like butter over grooving bass, slick drums, and liquid guitar tones, each phrase gliding effortlessly through the mix. It’s the kind of sound that makes the world slow down around you – late-night, low light, air thick with heat and hunger.

I went way past my limit
tryna get you to notice me
Now you see me outside with a whole team
Like I dreamt since thirteen
I never thought I’d say it’s getting a bit boring
Them hoes used to ignore me

But then you walked past
when I blinked, I turned
My neck did U-turns
I blushed, I was lost for words
Girl, your body made me think
I didn’t deserve something like you
Now I wanna impress you, baby

“I went way past my limit tryna get you to notice me…” he sings, weary and wide-eyed, his tone equal parts desire and devotion. There’s something hypnotic about the way he lingers on every word, each one heavy with meaning, like he’s living inside the ache. It’s a song of longing and seduction, of confidence and vulnerability intertwined – the kind that makes you breathe deeper just to stay in it.

“That track is the heartbeat of the whole album,” Huron tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s chaotic and celebratory all at once. It started with just a feeling I couldn’t really name, but once the song came together, I realized, ‘Oh, this is CONCUBANIA.’ It’s the anthem of the headspace.”

That headspace – Concubania, as Huron calls it – is as conceptual as it is emotional: a world where intimacy and temptation blur into one. The title itself, a twist on “concubine,” became a kind of metaphor for the messy, magnetic push and pull of love and lust. “It’s a place, not just a setting,” he says. “Every track exists inside of it.” And this song, with its sensual rhythm and hypnotic refrain (“Don’t leave me all alone out here at midnight”), is its shimmering skyline – the sound of desire and vulnerability in perfect balance.

And if you, if you feel like
I deserve some exchangе for the night
Girl, if you, if you feel like
I desеrve some exchange for the night
Don’t leave me all alone out here at midnight
Don’t leave me all alone out here at midnight
Girl, if you, if you feel like
I deserve some exchange for the night (Ooh)
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah (Ladies)

There’s a cinematic grandeur to the track that captures everything Isaia Huron stands for as a storyteller: honesty, imagination, and emotional depth. Born and raised in South Carolina, shaped by gospel roots and self-taught production, Huron has crafted his own lane in modern R&B – one that bridges the past and future with elegance and purpose.

“Those projects were me exploring different angles of myself,” he reflects. “But CONCUBANIA feels like my first time fully building a true headspace. It’s more cinematic, more intentional, and probably the most complete vision I’ve put out so far.”

And that vision is spellbinding. “CONCUBANIA” is the sound of a world coming alive – of late-night glances and quiet confessions, of heartbreak dressed in velvet. It’s music that feels lived-in and alive, that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Isaia Huron doesn’t just sing about intimacy; he builds a universe around it – one lush chord, one whispered plea, one midnight heartbeat at a time.

And if you, if you feel like
Only if you feel I deserve
exchange from you, my babe
Only if you, if you feel like
You’re leaving me here with my baby
Wanna show you something different, baby
Don’t leave me all alone out here at midnight
Don’t leave me all alone out here at midnight
And if you, if you feel like
I deserve some exchange for the night

There’s a certain thrill in not giving a damn – in setting the rulebook on fire, flipping the desk, and letting the chaos spill forth in droves. “Nobody Cares” is the soundtrack to that liberation: Frenzied, feverish, and feral, Bec Lauder and the Noise’s first song of the year is a dramatic, unapologetic middle finger raised high and mighty while the mascara’s running. It’s electric and exhilarating – an emotionally charged glam-punk anthem for anyone who’s ever wanted to scream into the void, break free from life’s doldrums, and dance through the ashes in their favorite boots.

Work shifts, highly wasted
Phone calls, lately faced with
Visions, we’ve all got em
Listen, you’re the problem 

Work shifts 
Give me a break,
I’m not fighting you
Your phone calls
Leave me a message,
I’m a busy girl
Your visions 
I’ve got a few to spare 
Just listen
I know who you are
and I don’t care

Released in July, “Nobody Cares” is the frenetic and feverish second single off Bec Lauder and The Noise’s debut album The Vessel (out now via Killphonic) – a song dripping with dizzying energy, sweat, and swagger that captures the band’s “glam-punk” ethos and serves as an intoxicating, all-too-perfect best foot forward.

“‘Nobody Cares’ perfectly captures the chaos of indifference with a smirk on its face,” Lauder tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s a chocolate-covered middle finger, attention-stealing, blast-at-full-volume summer banger. It’s the definition of glam punk with a touch of dream pop textures, lo-fi grit and honesty. Cry later, strut now.”

I know who you are and I don’t care 
I know who you are and I don’t care
I don’t… really care!

Nobody cares, nobody cares 
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Nobody cares!

Born in New York’s East Village and baptized by fire in over 100 live gigs since March 2023, Bec Lauder and The Noise are no strangers to the stage – or the visceral release it offers. Comprised of Lauder on vocals, guitar, and bass; Soph Shreds on guitar and bass; and Maggie Bishop on drums and vocal harmonies, the band marries classic rock urgency with downtown art-punk flare. “The Noise” isn’t just a clever moniker – it’s a mission statement.

And at some point, that mission statement simply became a reality for the trio. “‘Bec Lauder’ is who I become when I’m playing music – The Noise makes it happen,” Lauder (née Rebecca Corosanite) explains. “It’s always been very important to me to have a band of musicians who I trust, friends to share it all with. Music is about community, so I’ve surrounded myself with my favorite musicians.”

Lauder first introduced her solo artistry with 2023’s five-track debut EP Before Everything Changes, a breathtaking, hair-raising record in its own right, but her upcoming LP The Vessel is where things truly erupt. Eleven tracks of grit, glam, and unfiltered honesty, The Vessel is an ode to chaos and clarity, to the raw process of becoming. “When I hit the stage, it’s full-body improv – no shame, no filter, just pure instinct,” she says. “I’m a vessel, and the only way this works is if I let the music take over.”

Jumpy, feverish, and full of feral flair, “Nobody Cares” is a smirking, seductive explosion – and the perfect introduction to Bec Lauder and the Noise in 2025. Wild-eyed, sharp-tongued, the song is an emotionally charged exorcism of apathy and angst. It’s the kind of track that kicks down the door with its tight beat and glistening guitar tones alone – but it’s Lauder’s voice that inevitably takes center stage. She sings hot on the mic, spilling her soul while painting a provocative state of urgency and indifference. “Work shifts, highly wasted phone calls, lately faced with visions, we’ve all got ‘em, listen, you’re the problem,” she declares at the start, blitzing out of the gate with a seductive and smoldering strut. It’s a quarter-life crisis on tape – a frenzied, full-bodied scream into the abyss – and it’s glorious.

Perfect, that’s what they want
Stained walls
Make my castle
Stitched in
What if I just glisten
And it’s not your problem 

Perfect 
What if I told you I’m a messy girl
Your stained walls 
Always remind me that it’s so 
Stitched in
Come on now listen
I know who you are and I don’t care

“‘Nobody Cares’ is definitely the ‘pouty baby’ of the bunch,” Lauder adds with a smirk. “It’s my relief song – a song you sing as loud as you can until you forget you’re even upset. It’s meant to be empowering, to encourage people to trust themselves and maybe give a little less of a f*** about things that aren’t serving them… I’m not only screaming ‘Nobody cares!’ but ‘Screw you, I’m trusting my gut on this one!’ and ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ – all the things we want to say, but sometimes can’t.”

“Nobody Cares” is a release – bold, unfiltered, and cathartic – built to shake off the weight of other people’s expectations and trust your gut, no matter where you or or who you’re with. Written in the thick of Lauder’s own emotional upheaval, it’s a song that only comes when you’ve had enough – when the only way forward is to let it all out, raw and unfiltered, and let the noise become your clarity. The result is intoxicating – loud, loose, and impossible to ignore. “I hope people walk away from listening to “Nobody Cares” feeling liberating and inspired and sassy and silly,” Lauder grins. “It’s a whole lot of feelings jam-packed into a song that will hopefully just make you feel a little lighter after a listen.”

There’s no denying Lauder and co. have achieved something great in their music. Debut album The Vessel, released in mid-September, is a gritty, glittery gut-punch of an album that firmly plants the band’s flag in the sand, establishing them as one of NYC’s newest and most exciting artists to watch. It’s more than just a debut – it’s a declaration.

And if nobody cares? Well, that’s just more room to scream louder.

I know who you are and I don’t care 
I know who you are and I don’t care
I don’t… really care!

Nobody cares, nobody cares 
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Nobody cares!

All it takes is one spin of Dear Boy’s “After All” to remember why rock music still matters — it’s feverish, flirty, and alive with the thrill of feeling everything. Catchy, charged, and utterly cathartic, the California band’s third single of the year is a feel-good rush – the kind of earworm alternative rock anthem that hits you square in the chest the first time you hear it. Fueled by a primal, fuzzed-out riff and Ben Grey’s exhilarating vocal conviction, this track doesn’t just invite you in; it pulls you in, arms wide open. By the time the chorus arrives – “Are you close enough to change me?” – you’re already singing along, swept up in its churning energy and massive emotional release. It’s instant.

I feel everything
It’s better than nothin’
I want coffee rings
On my future coffin
Yeah yeah yeah

Don’t waste time
Without mine
Don’t waste time

Released August 5th via Last Gang Records, “After All” marks the latest chapter in the LA indie rockers’ evolution and serves as a fiery preview of their forthcoming sophomore album Celebrator (out October 17th). Recorded live in just two weeks, the track brims with urgency and abandon – all the tension, ache, and euphoria that make Dear Boy such a thrilling presence in today’s alt-rock revival.

Are you close enough to change me?
Are you close enough to change me?
Now you won’t call
Me always after all
Are you close enough to change?

“It is crazy to have been a band for this long without contributing a primal-teenage-bedroom-rock riff,” Grey laughs. “Happy to finally right a wrong.”

That riff – all muscle and melody – anchors a song that’s equal parts anthemic and introspective. “I feel everything / It’s better than nothing / I want coffee rings / On my future coffin,” Grey sings, walking the tightrope between cheeky and vulnerable, self-aware and self-effacing. The collaboration with Alithea Tuttle of fellow LA band Rocket adds another spark, their voices intertwining in a kind of melancholic euphoria.

“We feel so honored she sang on ‘After All,’” Grey says. “It’s the Catherine Wheel / Throwing Muses moment we’ve always dreamed of.”

Like the best Dear Boy songs, “After All” blurs nostalgia and novelty, threading classic Britpop textures through modern indie grit. There’s something electric about its imperfections – the live crackle, the raw edges, the pure human heat radiating through every note.

“Sonically, After All was inspired by Catherine Wheel and the alt rock of eras we weren’t fortunate enough to experience ourselves,” Grey tells Atwood Magazine. “Lyrically, the goal was to be both intensely vulnerable and a little bit cheeky… When you’re writing rock music in 2025, you’re looking for innovation while still embracing what makes rock and roll wonderful.”

That balance – reverence and rebellion, tradition and thrill – is what makes this track so satisfying. If Celebrator is a party, then “After All” is, as Grey puts it, “the stroke of midnight.” It’s the explosion of light when everything finally hits.

We’re not made for us
Won’t fight back with flowers
Comb through fairy dust
Under scattered showers
Yeah yeah yeah

Don’t waste time
Without mine
Don’t waste time

A song about closeness, courage, and the chaos of feeling too much, “After All” reaffirms Dear Boy as one of the most exciting, heartfelt bands in modern rock. They’ve never sounded looser, louder, or more alive.

“Sometimes, three chords are all you need to express yourself,” they say. “Rock and roll has become an exciting place to be again. Kids are breathing new life into old institutions and we’re honored to be a part of that tradition. That song made us feel brave. To keep things simple. Play exactly what you feel. Sing what’s in your heart. Have some fun.”

Are you close enough to change me?
Are you close enough to change me?
Now you won’t call
Me always after all
Are you close enough to change?

“Feeding my adrenals broken up glass, don’t look at me like that.” There’s a line in GUTHRIE’s new single that lands like a gut punch – vivid, unsettling, and quietly illuminating all at once. “Adrenals,” the Australian artist’s first release in three years, is a dreamy, gently aching song that feels like both a confession and a catharsis – the sound of someone finding beauty in the breaking. It’s as raw as it is radiant, a tender tempest of self-revelation and release. Lush, tempered guitars and dynamic drums accompany T’s stirring voice, creating a singular, soul-stirring experience that hits hard and lingers long after it ends.

Well it turns out what I wanted
Was reading rightness into all my faded terms
And trickle down to where my heart is
I couldn’t hear it if it said a word
Live life feeling like unburdened
I want you like that, I want you like that
Returning the perfect person
To sew one of the scraps we had

What’s most striking about “Adrenals” is its duality – the way pain and peace, exhaustion and elation, seem to occupy the same space. The instrumentation moves with a slow, deliberate pulse, mirroring the body’s own rhythms: Heartbeat, breath, the rise and fall between collapse and recovery. There’s fragility here, but also an undeniable strength – the kind that doesn’t announce itself, but grows steadily from within.

Written in the aftermath of burnout and self-reconstruction, “Adrenals” captures what T Guthrie describes as “a moment of euphoric realisation that not only is it okay to fail, but sometimes it’s only through being broken open that we realise who we really are.” The song’s title alone hints at the body’s response to crisis – that push-pull of survival instinct and exhaustion – and through it, GUTHRIE transforms physical and emotional depletion into something healing, human, and alive.

“I heard it and thought ‘oh shit’ – like my subconscious was delivering me a message I wasn’t really ready to hear,” T recalls. “But as I kept writing, something mysterious started to happen.”

That tension plays out most vividly in the chorus, where T sings:

Feeding my adrenals broken up glass
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that
Eager like I’m winning when I come last
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that
If everything that goes out has to come back
I’ll read you like I’m written as a rough draft
Giving up a good thing that I don’t have
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that

It’s a rush of self-awareness and surrender, capturing the strange adrenaline of exhaustion – that instinct to keep running even when the body is spent. The imagery of “feeding my adrenals broken up glass” feels almost primal – the body consuming its own pain, metabolizing heartbreak into endurance. The repeated plea, “Don’t look at me like that,” lands like both a shield and a confession: a recognition of shame, vulnerability, and the desire to still be seen through it.

“Eager like I’m winning when I come last” is itself a haunting line – one that turns self-deprecation into self-acceptance. You can feel the ache of striving, the weariness of always pushing forward, and yet there’s a flicker of light in how they sing it, a knowing smile breaking through the fatigue. This is the moment where “Adrenals” transcends confession and becomes something closer to release – a shedding of pressure, a reclaiming of breath.

By the time T reaches “I’ll read you like I’m written as a rough draft,” there’s a gentleness there, a willingness to accept imperfection as part of the process. The chorus becomes an emotional cycle in itself – depletion, self-awareness, acceptance, and release – a musical embodiment of what it means to break down and begin again.

“I was almost like I was writing into existence the future that I wanted,” T explains. “To feel like it was okay to fail, to have energy back, to be ready for the next adventure… despite the bleak beginning, it ended up being more about the joys of finally giving up something that’s not working and getting to find out more intimately who you actually are.”

Trying to fake and joyfully failing
My interactions with uncomplicated words
And there’s a boldness in the breaking
To walk around on a heel that doesn’t hurt
Perfect for a different person
This story I had I’m giving it back
Wide eyed for the world I’m learning
Moves under those thoughts I had

That act of surrender – of letting go and learning to live again – becomes the song’s quiet triumph. You can hear it in the interplay between T and collaborator James Seymour (Feelds), their voices echoing each other like two sides of the same realization. What begins as solitude slowly blooms into connection, until the song feels communal, cathartic, brimming with life.

There’s truth in every syllable, and a sense of liberation in every note. Aching inside and out, “Adrenals” feels like an awakening – raw, honest, and tenderly triumphant, the kind of song that finds you when you need it most.

Feeding my adrenals broken up glass
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that
Eager like I’m winning when I come last
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that
If everything that goes out has to come back
I’ll read you like I’m written as a rough draft
Giving up a good thing that I don’t have
Don’t look at me like that,
don’t look at me like that

Arno Sacco’s debut single “Blue Boy” promises to stop you in your tracks – an utterly gorgeous, soul-stirring confessional that immediately sets him apart from the pack. For nearly four minutes, it’s just Sacco’s breathtakingly beautiful voice and a Spanish guitar: nothing else, no tricks, no polish. You can hear the air between his words, the ache in his delivery, the quiet surrender in every breath. Enchanting, haunting, all-consuming – all of these words fail to capture the magic and majesty of this song, and yet they’re a good start.

I’m lost
Unable to be found
Stuck in this merry-go-round
Impatiently patiently waiting
for a miracle to come around
But I’m fading
And there’s no leftover space
to roam around in I feel alone
Escaping dying fields of happiness,
I think I’m losing my way towards home
You were my home

This is what I like to call a ‘gentle giant’ of a song – a tender tempest that moves the heart and stirs the soul. “I feel so blue / I think I lost myself, need guidance for my help,” he sings, his voice trembling like a candle in the dark. The whole thing aches: a portrait of self-loss and slow healing painted in soft, intimate strokes. Produced with Beni Giles and Joe Brown, “Blue Boy” was the first song Sacco ever wrote – a fact that only makes its depth and sensitivity more striking.

“‘It’s an ode to release – to shedding old skins, escaping worn-out cycles and finding grace in the ache of growing up,’” Sacco shares. “‘I hope it will serve as a soundtrack to make life feel a bit more soft.’”

And I feel so blue
I think I lost myself,
need guidance for my help
Oh I feel so blue
I think I lost myself
I need help

I’m blue, blue, blue, blue
I’m blue, blue, blue, blue

Born in Belgium with Caribbean roots, and now based in London, Sacco has become a quietly luminous voice within the Dutch and UK R&B scenes, moving in creative circles that include Naomi Sharon, Rimon, and BNNYHUNNA. But where many debut singles introduce an artist’s sound, “Blue Boy” introduces a soul. It’s the sound of a young artist taking inventory of his own heart, finding beauty in fragility and strength in stillness.

“I chose ‘Blue Boy’ as the first release because it felt like the purest representation of where I was emotionally,” Sacco tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s also the first song I’ve ever written so it holds this sincere ache, but also this quiet hope. It’s soft but intentional. It felt like a doorway, not just into my sound, but into the kind of emotional space I want to invite people into.”

Let me fall
Let me lose it all
Don’t let me crawl, back into your lap
Kiss me goodnight but I won’t say it back
Dreams of splendor wonder
through the halls of my brain
I’m going insane
Need a deeper force
to cleanse me from the night
And float away back to the start

That emotional space – spacious, raw, and deeply human – is what makes “Blue Boy” so breathtaking. There’s pain in its poetry (“Let me fall / Let me lose it all / Don’t let me crawl back into your lap”), but also mercy and release. You can feel him shedding something – not violently, but gently, like the tide letting go of the shore. It’s the quiet revolution of self-acceptance rendered in melody.

“It’s everything,” he says of vulnerability in music. “Even if the lyrics are abstract or the production is minimal. If it’s vulnerable, people feel that. It’s the difference between hearing a song and feeling it.”

“Blue Boy” feels like standing in the middle of your own storm and realizing you’re still whole. It’s tender and raw, aching and alive – a breathtaking debut from an artist who understands that sometimes the softest songs can hit the hardest.

But now I feel so blue
I think I lost myself
Need guidance for my help
Oh I feel so blue
I think I lost myself
I need help

I’m blue, blue, blue, blue
I’m blue, blue, blue, blue

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