Imagine this: after rocking a seaside concert, the singer wanders into the only open bar and spots a bartender with feline, balcony-wide eyes. One cheeky request for a song and a cocktail later, the night explodes into piano serenades, flirtatious banter, and a sprint of kisses beneath every streetlight. Time melts away—the clock strikes ten, then eleven, then midnight—until the lovers greet the moon completely tangled in each other.
Fast-forward one year. The singer returns, eager to relive that electric night, but the bar has vanished, replaced by a sterile bank. No one knows the woman who once ruled the counter, and heartbreak pushes him into a tipsy act of rebellion that ends in handcuffs. The story is equal parts romantic comedy and bittersweet ballad: a celebration of those wild, unrepeatable summer loves that burn bright, vanish fast, and leave us clutching songs instead of answers.