A wordless choir to open — bright, glossy, a little theatrical in the best disco way.

There she is — voice low in the pocket, totally conversational, and the first thing on offer is a galaxy.

She sings about falling into a rhythm where the music won't stop, and the track just keeps proving her right. Nothing strains.

Glitter in the sky, glitter in her eyes — and the backing voices are starting to gloss the room up around her.

'My sugarboo, I'm levitating' — goofy and intimate at once, and it snaps all that flirting into a proper hook.

First chorus — same groove, just lit brighter. More surface, more shine, moonlight and starlight stacked on top of the pocket.

There's an answer in the background now — 'you're the moonlight' — the vocals are starting to talk back.

The chorus floats out on the title while the backings carry their own little 'come on' chant underneath.

The choir hands her into the second verse, and the same easy delivery reads differently this time — less introduction, more control.

Same glitter line, one word changed — 'our' eyes now. The whole verse has quietly moved from me to we.

'Let's get lost on Mars' — the words keep reaching further out, and the bass underneath hasn't changed its stride once.

Second chorus comes back with the same shine, and from here it's a long, level stretch — the chant, the synth sparkle, and the backing voices trading the foreground without ever breaking the floor.

The track loosens into something playful — 'you can fly away with me tonight' as a looping chant, the bassline still holding the body to the floor. More a sideways glide than a breakdown.

And the 'woo's arrive — tiny, bright, completely unembarrassed.

The rocket lines land more like a chant than a melody — 'my love is like a rocket, watch it blast off' — and she just keeps repeating them into the groove.

Same rocket lines, word for word, second time through — and it doesn't feel like the well running dry. The repetition is the idea: this song never wanted a climax, it wanted a condition. Levitating as somewhere to stay.

Last hook, and it lands like a place everyone already knows — nothing left to prove, just the plain trade: you want me, I want you, baby.

The answers are multiplying now — a 'yeah' tucked into the gap, echoes finishing her phrases, the vocal stack getting thicker.

Back into the fly-away chant, 'tonight' answering 'tonight' — the same sideways glide as the first time, nothing disturbed underneath it.

The background voice isn't just echoing anymore — it's singing whole phrases back, 'you are my starlight.' Nearly a duet by now.

And there it lets go — three and a half minutes of nearly unbroken motion, and the groove finally eases out from under the last 'come on, dance with me,' until all that's left floating is the title.