"Funeral for the Casanova"
In Arpeggio’s haunting confessional, velvet charm meets the edge of a coffin lid.
He serenades the death of his own allure — the Casanova within him, silk-tongued and silver-eyed, finally laid to rest.
Each note feels like a petal falling on the grave of temptation;
his voice trembles between desire and deliverance,
between the scent of sin and the silence of surrender.
The debonair side — once his armor, once his curse — dissolves in melody,
as he buries lust beneath the rhythm,
and rises, bare-souled, to meet himself unadorned.
