A clean guitar figure begins with a strange composure, quick and rounded, as if the track is already walking on a narrow beam. The pulse is fast, but the first pressure is light. Bass and drums give the motion enough ground to move the body, yet the room stays open around the voice when it enters at 0:13: "Step forward and meet a new sunrise." The line sounds almost tender, almost conversational, and the arrangement lets that tenderness sit in front without making it safe.

The early verse keeps its balance by refusing to rush its own heaviness. The guitar keeps turning in small, precise shapes; the drums mark time without crushing it. When the voice says "A coward is shivering inside," the shiver is already in the music’s restraint: the beat is steady, the surface is smooth enough to trust, and something under it keeps tightening. By 0:34, "Suffering with smile" arrives as a plain admission inside a clean melodic line. The softness is disciplined.

Then the track changes its face. Around 0:52, the heavy section comes in with the kind of force that makes the earlier delicacy feel newly dangerous. The vocal drops into a harsh register on "Scale armour blaze," and the band closes ranks around it. The guitars thicken, the drums become more declarative, and the steady pulse that had been carrying the verse now feels like a command. The phrase "Virgin innocence" follows inside the same rough frame, and the contrast is physical: the words keep their gleam while the delivery scrapes them against the riff.

That first heavy passage does not sprawl. It locks into a repeated shape, then releases back into motion before the ear can settle into brutality as the whole story. "One being brings life / Another runs for death" turns like a split image, and the arrangement treats it as a cycle rather than a single outburst. The music is still moving forward with remarkable regularity. Even when the attacks lean around the beat, the center holds.

At 1:58 the clean voice returns with "No promises I ever give," and the track’s space opens again. The return feels colder than the beginning because the heavy register has already shown what the body can become here. "Don't rely on me and I won't deceive" is sung with a clear, almost elegant distance; the rhythm underneath stays agile, and the guitar line keeps the floor in motion. The song is not resting. It is swimming in place against its own changes.

The Pisces image sharpens in the second verse. "The beginning or the end, you can't tell / When I wave my fin and shake my tail" arrives over the same controlled flow, and the phrasing bends the body’s sense of direction. I hear the track playing with forward motion that keeps circling back on itself. The pulse remains reliable, but the vocal world keeps suggesting reversal, doubling, a creature that cannot be read from one angle. When "Hooks and nets are there for me / But I'm skittish" appears, the clean vocal has a flicker of evasion in it; the band gives the line room to dart.

The repeated heavy refrain at 2:43 hits with less surprise and more inevitability. "Scale armour blaze" comes back as a known transformation. The harsh voice is no longer a rupture from the song’s gentler self; it has become one of its organs. The drums and guitars keep the section tight, and the refrain’s opposing images — innocence, life, death — feel pressed into the same rhythmic mold. The music holds them there.

After 3:17, the track enters one of its most gripping stretches because the body is caught without the arrangement needing to thicken constantly. The groove has a usable seat, but it keeps shifting its accents just enough to prevent sleepwalking. At 3:31, "Neptune's child shivering inside" opens a darker waterline. The voice draws out the image rather than explaining it, and the band makes the space feel suspended for a moment. "Drowns in the liquid gold" follows with a strange brightness in the phrase, as if the drowning is illuminated from inside.

The passage from 3:53 into 4:15 widens the scene. "Cherished his life to the underworld" and "Meet me flashing when the winter cries" move through a more dramatic melodic frame, and the track seems to gather itself for a final change. The brightness at the edge of the sound flashes briefly; then the surface hardens. At 4:15, "Pisces swimming through the river" names the creature the music has been tracing all along. The rhythm tightens beneath it.

The final section is the harshest because it stops letting the fish image remain graceful. "All their life against the stream" moves quickly into "Searching for a hook to catch on," and the hook is no rescue once the band bears down. The voice becomes more severe, the guitars press forward, and the repeated "Emeralds are ripped away" at the end turns the beauty of scale and shine into extraction. Each return of the phrase narrows the track’s space. By 4:59, the pressure starts to fall away, and at 5:02 the pattern breaks into the last gap.

What stays after the ending is the track’s refusal to separate delicacy from threat. The clean passages are never decorative; they teach the ear how vulnerable the body of the song is before the harsh voice exposes its armor. The repeated pulse keeps everything moving like a river current, while the lyrics keep changing that current into a trap, a migration, a cutting table. Pisces leaves me with motion that was steady the whole time and never simple.