Lublin La Vida Loca is a lo-fi, hi-camp anthem for the overworked, underpaid, emotionally fried queers of Eastern Europe. It’s part music video, part meme, part breakdown in a glittery wig. The sound is danceable despair; the look is burnout by way of pop art.
Visually, the clip throws its middle finger at realism. Characters appear in crisp black and white, outlined in bold, saturated color — like comic book ghosts trapped in a capitalist nightmare. The sitodruk texture adds that unmistakable halftone grime, while the clean white background screams: there is no context, only coping. Think punk zine meets Prozac ad meets TikTok in 2012, but make it Polish and pissed off.
The lyrics bounce between bleak and brilliant. There’s amfetamine in the bathroom, cocaine in the kitchen, and no one’s had an orgasm since 2019. Rent’s due, panties are ripped, Tinder’s dead, and your boss is sending you motivational quotes about resilience. But hey — we’re still here, still rhyming, still drinking, still dancing.
Each verse is its own crisis. Simona’s stuck in a loop of sexual frustration and underpaid gigs. Lotta’s hoping her birthday comes with a psychiatric sick note. Zizzy dreams of trans joy and new underwear. It’s chaotic, funny, devastating — like oversharing in a group chat at 3AM.
The chorus hits like a mantra:
“How long can we live? / We always have to drink. / Amphetamines in the bathroom, / cocaine in the kitchen — / Lublin, la vida loca.”
It’s less a complaint than a coping mechanism. Less a song than a group exorcism in four verses and a bassline.
Lublin La Vida Loca isn’t trying to solve anything. It’s here to name the mess, laugh at the abyss, and dress it up in brokat. It’s a rave for the emotionally unavailable, a hymn for the brokenhearted on SSRIs, a reminder that even at your worst, you can still rhyme “gacie” with “kieracie.”
Sometimes surviving looks like crying in glitter, screaming into a void with a pop-art outline, and saying: fuck it — at least we’re still dancing.
From hangover to hangover,
slaloming my way through life.
How long can we live?
We always have to drink.
Amphetamines in the bathroom,
coke in the kitchen —
Lublin, la vida loca. (x3)
Lotta: It’s your birthday today,
tomorrow you’re pulling overtime.
Maybe a psych leave?
Zizzy: Uhm… sounds kinda unethical.
Simona: This world pisses me off —
financial whip to the back.
Zizzy: Quit your job,
wait for fulfillment.
How long can we live?
We always have to drink.
Amphetamines in the bathroom,
coke in the kitchen —
Lublin, la vida loca. (x3)
Zizzy: The daily grind,
my meds like landmines.
Still broke as hell,
and dreaming of dick.
Simona: Tinder to Grindr,
they’re all below zero.
Wanna break out of this numbness —
still no orgasm.
How long can we live?
We always have to drink.
Amphetamines in the bathroom,
coke in the kitchen —
Lublin, la vida loca. (x3)
Lotta: Waiting for my paycheck,
maybe I’ll drown this loss.
5AM — still sipping.
Wasted queens forever.
Zizzy: Trying to level up,
just get a pile of crap.
10 years in the grind —
can’t afford new underwear.
How long can we live?
We always have to drink.
Amphetamines in the bathroom,
coke in the kitchen —
Lublin, la vida loca. (x3)
Translating porn at night,
hustling fake documents,
tricking the legal fuckers.
I’ll split your pill,
numb your soul.
All: All the pearls in our necklace
are made of hops. (x4)
How long can we live?
We always have to drink.
Amphetamines in the bathroom,
coke in the kitchen —
Lublin, la vida loca. (x3)
How do you take down the directors?
Those fuckers don’t want new tracks.
I think of you,
but I’m still stuck in work.
How can I show up sober,
use what I’ve got inside?
The days of the week blur,
I keep flirting with rock bottom.
Sorry babe,
there’ll be no embryos from us.