Track By Tracks: Citovitz And The Fireflies Of February - My Revenge (2026)

On February 10th, 2026—my 50th birthday—I released "My Revenge," a five-song EP that maps the journey to this moment. Each track carries its own weight, its own reason for existing. But they all connect around one central truth: revenge isn't about anger. It's about refusing to let pain write the ending.

Musically, this EP lives in the world I grew up with—late 80s hard rock in the style of Bon Jovi and Def Leppard, with touches of Bryan Adams' emotional honesty. The songwriting approach comes from studying Desmond Child and Kip Winger—masters of the hook, the melody that stays with you, the chorus that means something beyond just sounding good.

My wife Shereen wrote the lyrics to "My Revenge" and "The Demon Was Once An Angel"—two of the most powerful tracks on this EP. I wrote the lyrics to the other three songs. Patryk Szymański's bass work grounds every track—he's been my musical brother for over a decade, and you can hear that connection in every note.

Here's the journey, track by track.

1. YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND—YOU'RE MY BROTHER, MY FRIEND:

The Opening Statement

This had to open the EP. It had to be first because it establishes what survival looks like when you don't do it alone.

The title says everything: some relationships transcend the word "friendship." Patryk and I didn't plan to become brothers. Music brought us together more than a decade ago, but what built between us—the trust, the loyalty, the showing up through loss and grief—that happened because we both chose it. Every single time.

I wrote these lyrics from the heart, trying to capture what brotherhood means when it's forged through music and survival rather than blood.

"When you go through what we've been through, you learn who your real brothers are. Patryk stayed. Not just musically, but humanly. He stood beside me when I couldn't stand alone. This song is about people like him—the ones who become family when you need it most."

Musically, this track channels everything I learned from Bon Jovi about melodic craft. Jon taught me that you can write anthem-sized choruses that still feel personal, that commercial appeal and emotional honesty aren't opposites. The guitar work here is classic late-80s hard rock—big, driving, emotional but not overwrought.

Patryk's bass on this track is phenomenal. Listen to how he moves through the verses—he's not just keeping time, he's having a conversation with my guitar. That's what a decade of playing together sounds like. You can't fake that chemistry.

The song celebrates brotherhood forged through music and survival. If you've ever found your family through art, through creation, through showing up and staying—this one's for you.

2. MY REVENGE:

The Title Track: Seven Years of Silence Breaking Open

This is the heaviest track on the EP, both musically and emotionally. Shereen wrote these lyrics from seven years of being blamed for things she never did, being crucified for crimes she never committed, being left to hemorrhage in silence while everyone believed the perfect mask.

"Seven years they watched me bleed and called it nothing. Swallowed every lie I fed them, believed I was fine. Crucified me for crimes I never committed. Abandoned me in he,ll but I refused to die in it."

Those aren't just lyrics. That's her life. Seven years of actual survival that nearly destroyed her. The riff came from a place of fire, inspired by Ronnie Radke's intensity and refusal to be broken.

I wanted something that matched the aggression in Shereen's words—not anger for anger's sake, but the sound of someone who survived what should have killed them and came out stronger. "My revenge isn't about hatred. It's about transcending what tried to destroy you. It's about breathing when they prayed for your obliteration. The truth finally detonated after years of forced silence."

Musically, this track pushes harder than the others. The guitars are more aggressive, Patryk's bass drives with relentless energy, and the production creates this wall of sound that mirrors the lyrical intensity. But it's still melodic—even in anger, we're writing hooks. That's the Desmond Child influence: even when you're screaming, you're still crafting something people will remember.

The bridge drops to just voice and guitar before the final chorus explodes. That moment of vulnerability before the power returns—that's the whole song in microcosm. Broken, then rising. Silenced, then screaming. Dead, then resurrected.

This song will help someone survive. I know it will.

3. TIME IS A THIEF:

Turning Fifty: What Time Steals and What Remains. I turned fifty on February 10th. I wrote this song about that—about reaching a milestone that once felt impossible, about what time steals and what somehow remains despite the theft. "Every word in this song means the world to me. More than that, it means my life. My fight. My dreams. My hope. Being broken and getting up every single day."

Time took my son Jonasz. Time took years I'll never get back. Time is stealing my youth, my hair, my illusions about how the world works. But time couldn't steal the music. Time couldn't steal the marriage that's lasted seventeen years. Time couldn't steal the friendships that became brotherhood.

The lyrics here are some of my most personal. I write about mortality without drowning in it, about loss without losing hope. That balance—acknowledging what's gone while celebrating what remains—that's what makes this song work.

Musically, this is pure Bryan Adams influence mixed with Bon Jovi's melodic sensibility. The verse is introspective, almost conversational. Then the chorus opens up into this big, emotional statement. The guitar solo in the middle—that's me trying to say with six strings what words can't quite capture.

Patryk's bass work here is subtle but crucial. He's not flashy—he's holding the emotional center while the guitars soar. That's what great bass playing does: it grounds the flight. "Time steals everything eventually. But music—what we create—that stays. That's the only revenge against time that works. You can't stop it from stealing. But you can make something that outlasts the theft."

4. I AM A GENTLEMAN TEMPERED BY GRIEF:

The Quiet Statement

This is the most personal track on the EP. The title says it all: I am a gentleman—I try to be kind, patient, understanding. But I'm tempered by grief. Shaped by loss. Hardened by what I've survived.

After losing Jonasz, I'm not the same person. Grief changes you. It doesn't make you bitter necessarily, but it makes you different. Harder in some ways. Softer in others. More patient with suffering. Less patient with bullshit.

I wrote these lyrics trying to capture what grief does to someone who chooses to stay kind anyway.

"Grief taught me things I never wanted to learn. It showed me who stays and who runs. It revealed what matters and what's just noise. I'm a gentleman because I choose kindness even after the world was cruel. But I'm tempered—forged in fire I didn't ask for."

Musically, this track is softer than the others. Still rock, but more introspective. The guitars are cleaner, more melodic. Think Def Leppard's ballads—emotional but never weak, vulnerable but still powerful. The production gives everything space to breathe.

Patryk's bass here is beautiful. He's playing melody, not just rhythm. Listen to the verses—his bass line is as important as the vocal melody. That's the kind of playing that only comes from deep musical understanding and genuine friendship.

This song is for everyone who survived something that changed them forever. For everyone who's trying to stay kind after the world was cruel. For every gentleman and gentlewoman tempered by grief.

5. THE DEMON WAS ONCE AN ANGEL:

The Winger-Inspired Finale

This track closes the EP, and it's directly inspired by Winger—both musically and in its songwriting approach. Kip Winger's ability to blend technical proficiency with emotional depth, his melodic sensibility combined with sophisticated arrangements—that's what I was channeling here.

Shereen wrote the lyrics for this one, and they capture the entire concept perfectly: demons weren't born demons. They were angels who fell. They were good things that got broken. They were naïve souls who learned the world doesn't reward innocence.

"This song is about getting broken and losing your naivety. About realizing that not everyone deserves your trust, that the world is crueler than you thought, that angels can become demons just by surviving long enough."

Her lyrics here are cutting. She writes about transformation through pain, about how what breaks you also changes you into something you weren't before. Not necessarily worse, but definitely different. Harder. Less trusting. More guarded.

But here's the key: the song doesn't say demons are evil. It says they were angels once. There's tragedy in that. There's understanding. It's saying: if you've become hard, if you've lost your innocence, if you've built walls—maybe that's not your fault. Maybe that's survival.

Musically, this is the most technical track on the EP, heavily inspired by Winger's style. The guitar work is more intricate, with those melodic runs and harmonic sophistication that Kip Winger perfected. Patryk's bass here is incredible—watch his bass playthrough video if you can. He's not just supporting the guitars; he's having his own conversation with the song, very much in that Winger band style where the bass is a melodic voice.

The production is bigger here—layered guitars, dynamic shifts, that classic late-80s hard rock sound that Winger perfected. But it's not dated—it's timeless. Good songwriting doesn't age. "The demon was once an angel. That's the whole story, isn't it? We all start innocent. Life makes us something else. But knowing where we came from—remembering we were angels once—maybe that keeps us from becoming completely lost."

THE EP AS A WHOLE: SURVIVAL AS CREATION

These five songs collectively represent my statement on reaching fifty: I survived. I'm still creating. I refuse to let pain write the ending.

The 80s hard rock influence isn't nostalgia—it's honoring the music that saved my life. Those Bon Jovi and Def Leppard posters on my walls in Wałbrzych, Poland, taught me more than guitar solos. They taught me that you can survive anything if you keep creating. That commitment matters. That craft matters. That melodic hooks and emotional honesty work together, not against each other.

Desmond Child and Kip Winger showed me that songwriting is architecture—you build something that stands on its own, that people can walk through and find themselves inside. Every track on "My Revenge" tries to do that.

My wife Shereen wrote the lyrics to "My Revenge" and "The Demon Was Once An Angel"—her survival, her truth, translated into words I could set to music. I wrote the lyrics to the other three tracks from my own experiences. Together, we created something neither of us could have made alone.

Patryk Szymański's bass work throughout—over a decade of brotherhood distilled into five tracks. You can hear the connection. You can feel the trust. That's what real collaboration sounds like.

"My Revenge" isn't about getting even. It's about proving that creation is stronger than destruction. That survival is its own victory. That after fifty years of being told this was impossible, I'm still here. Still playing. Still believing music matters.

That's my revenge against everything that tried to stop me: I kept going. And I'm not stopping now.

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