Drum machine first — dry, almost no swing — with a low figure stepping under a cold line on top.

There — the whole thing drops out for a clean second.

Back in. Same strict count, locking a little harder.

Top edge gets harsher here. The surface just tightens.

Under the beat that low figure gathers, lightens, comes back, lightens again.

Still no voice. Just the machine and that repeating floor, turning enough that it never fully sits still.

Voice finally walks in, low and flat: dance with me the gallowdance.

As long as we're not hanging — and the beat does not flinch under it.

My love is in the words, but the arrangement gives them no cushion.

Same invitation back. Dance with me the gallowdance.

For all the degradation in this land — bigger world in the lyric, still this small hard room of sound.

Hook again, then as disorientated as you can, while the pulse stays dead straight.

Low weight gathers under the loop again. No break. Just more of the same runway.

They're still holding that narrow groove with nothing new on top — body can settle, but it's a severe kind of settle.

German now. Tanz mit mir den Galgentanz — same step, different mouth-shape.

Solange wir noch nicht hängen. Same suspended condition, same measured count.

Der Baum — the tree's been standing a long time, my dear. Voice stays almost courteous.

Der Baum steht schon da again. Band still will not give it a climax.

A beautiful tree to hang yourself from — and you can already feel the motor starting to let go.

Everything falls into silence. Nothing comes in to fill it.