“how to lie” by avalon is the sound of someone drowning in plain sight, with lungs emptied by disappointment, still trying to gasp out the truth when silence would hurt less. It’s a ballad built from aftershocks, circling the moment you realize the person who swore they tried didn’t even make it past the starting line. Where their effort stops, yours begins and repeats a thousand times. The song moves like a pleading loop: minimal, raw, each repetition of “how to lie” less an accusation than an exhausted question. There’s a sting in how softly the lyrics are delivered, like the vulnerability itself has been stripped of armor.
NEWSLETTER
