It catches immediately — drums and guitar already shoving forward, with the accents leaning off to the sides.

There. The hard repeating figure is fully in, and you can feel that low center under it.

Voice is in — Got back out — riding the bounce and fighting it at the same time.

Now he's throwing the memory of screaming and bumping straight into that same riff.

Open your eyes doesn't soften anything. It just shoves your head back toward the sound.

New stretch here — doubt, the common love of music, trying to build a way back before anything ruptures.

Attitude, will, and spirit. He's repeating it like an instruction while the band refuses to slow down.

This is the tear — the parasite question rips the throat open, and Soulfly answers back while the riff stays brutally steady.

Bridge, but not a clean new room. The words get rougher and more crowded, almost freestyle, still thrown against the same hard floor.

Same question again. You already know it, and it hasn't gotten gentler. Soulfly and Fly free flash through those warm, distorted guitars.

Listen — the words change. Walk into this world, head up high, still over that same grinding band.

He's still stepping that phrase in, over and over. The lift has to climb through the grind.

Now it's basically the title only. Head up, head up — the words turn into the rhythm.

Past four minutes and it still won't leave this chant and riff. The surface is more chewed up, but the center hasn't moved.

Here — the drive finally starts to loosen.

And then it's just gone. After all that insistence, the quiet feels like something got yanked out.