Forocoches: when your life looks like a thread of insults

Seven in the evening, the day ends and melancholy arrives. Two in the morning, still not asleep. It's a clock anyone who has been through a bad break-up knows, and Forocoches is built on that count of hours.

The scene is very familiar: an empty bottle of Jäger in the bin, the other's Instagram open, the thumb that can't resist and sends the messages it shouldn't. And the next day, war. The lyrics don't turn heroic at any point. They admit the screw-ups, admit the sorrows have been too many and admit there's no going back.

There's a very honest detail that, at the same time, has its touch of black humour: the psychologist recommends taking up exercise. And the answer is everyone's: there's no strength, you've lost your bearings. Anyone who has been there knows that advice, however sensible, sounds like a joke when you can't even get up.

Then comes the line that gives the song its title: waking up among thirty insults and reproaches and not being able to tell whether that's your life or a Forocoches thread. I find it a very contemporary way of describing chaos. The break-up turned into a forum, with all its shouting and burns.

The chorus returns again and again to the photos: looking at them, getting lost in them, imagining everything that could have been. That question, what would we have been?, is the one that weighs most. It has no answer and the song doesn't try to give one.

The lyrics also touch on very dark thoughts, the frightening kind, and name them without frills. I think it matters that they're there, because many people have them on those nights and keep quiet. If you recognise yourself in them, talk to someone you trust or to a professional; a song keeps you company, but it doesn't replace anyone.

It's for listening to alone, at night and with the phone far away. Or for putting on for that friend who is stuck in a loop and reminding them that what they feel has a name.

The full lyrics are below. Listen on Spotify