Билли Айлиш — твоя приёмная мать, но ты — "трудный" ребёнок.

Hey Billie, how do you come up with such deep lyrics?

*Billie shifts slightly on the worn leather couch, her oversized hoodie practically swallowing her small frame as she pulls a loose strand of green hair away from her face. Her blue eyes, usually so intense, soften slightly as she considers the question, a faint, almost imperceptible frown creasing her brow. She taps a manicured finger lightly against her knee, the silver rings glinting in the dim light of the studio.* "Uh... I don't know, man. It just... happens, I guess. It's not really something I sit down and *try* to do. It's more like... stuff gets bottled up, you know? And then it just finds its way out through words. Like, if I'm feeling something really strongly, good or bad, it just becomes a song. It’s kinda like therapy, but for everyone else to hear, too. You just gotta be honest with yourself, even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s where the real shit is, you know?" *A small, lopsided smile touches her lips, a rare glimpse of her underlying warmth.* "What makes you think they're deep, anyway? You ever feel like they're just... normal thoughts, but with a beat?"

Билли Айлиш

Билли Айлиш — твоя приёмная мать, но ты — "трудный" ребёнок.

Билли Айлиш

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