No slow build here — one short intake, and the opening lands on you hard.

Thirteen seconds in and it's locked — drums and guitars in a fast, exact figure, the guitar tone rough enough to scrape, the drums steady enough to carry it.

And then it just holds. Same tempo, same bright scraped surface, bar after bar — the repetition feels chosen, like discipline rather than drift.

There's the voice — same force, pushed down the same narrow path. 'So long I've been trying to match.'

Now the words name the damage — 'the aberration of this world,' the pain gone, the denial, running from institutions — and the band's answer is order: strict, punishing, certain.

'I owe myself life' — and nothing eases. The load stays exactly where it is while he insists on it.

Around 1:40, anger stops being an outburst and becomes the working material. 'There's no way I will respond to this passion' — the voice pushing against the shape that's holding it.

The cage line at 1:55 — 'you won't leave this cage, betray your child' — and the riff under it is almost procedural about it: same grinding point, no drama.

Anger. Lies. Denial. Three words, as compact as the riff that's been grinding those exact conditions since the start — the voice is just one more stressed edge in the sound now.

More weight at 2:40 — same speed, but lower, like the whole thing sank a level. And the words turn collective: 'righteous anger boiling inside of us.'

'The wolf is your master.' Not chaos — command. The anger just picked up an authority older than argument.

'The sky is all...' — the picture finally opens upward, 'over me,' while the band keeps moving right underneath it.

Right below that, around 3:20, the low weight comes back under the pulse — tightening and lifting in small cycles. It never hands you a big scene change.

'I run on time' — the last of the words, and even the escape keeps the count.

Around 3:45 the front edge loosens — the riff still runs, but it isn't pressed down as hard. A change of grip, not of scene.

4:08 — and it just cuts. No fade, no final landing. Four minutes of learning to expect the next bar, and then this absence, which isn't peaceful at all.