I wrote the first version of “Everytime” many years ago.
The melody was written together with my cousin Eric (an Italian professional composer and arranger), while the lyrics were entirely my own — inspired by a friend I had at the time, and by a real episode I witnessed, which I later distorted in my own way.

Now the song returns in a completely new form: reimagined, rearranged, and sung by Lunaria Payne.
It was first released as a single on streaming platforms (in 2024), and is now also part of the album Afterglow.

It’s not a love song — even if it sounds like one.
It’s a disturbing confession, disguised as a soul ballad.
A voice — Lunaria’s — sings with sweetness something that is anything but sweet.

The protagonist is a lucid psychopath, though not a fictional killer.
She’s a woman who transforms to survive: she changes her face, her voice, her lover.
Every time the other’s gaze begins to truly see her, she dons a new disguise and disappears.

In the chorus, she dreams of flying like a flower on the wind — a poetic, almost innocent image — but that flight is a serial escape, a toxic ecstasy.
The flower drifts into the stars, and with it, any trace of reality.

Her pain?
It’s not faced. It’s only dispersed, briefly, like a ghost in the rain.