Camp, carnality and key changes. Glitter bombs set to music.
Intro:
Trashy lives for the spotlight, dances with drama, and belts with abandon. Think Eurovision on steroids, with a wink, a whip, and a multilingual smirk. The stage is sacred, the audience is trembling, and the mic is never dropped — just caressed suggestively.
Quote:
“If you’re not sweating, sparkling, or singing in four languages by the final chorus, are you even alive?”
