String chords and a scratchy vinyl loop open alone; a shaker joins near 0:17, a bass pulse near 0:29, and the breakbeat lands around 0:35. The build is strictly additive — each element enters by itself until the groove stands complete.

Shara Nelson enters softly at 0:40 with verse one, opening I know that I've imagined love before; six lines ride the unchanged beat to about 1:03, the entrance itself the event. The voice then pauses and the strings take over melodic duty, swelling around 1:10 above the beat — the first stretch where instruments alone hold the tune.

Verse two returns at 1:22 on the same beat, swapping in a new opening line (The curiousness of your potential kiss) and then going further than its model: the delivery climbs to a sustained peak near 1:44–1:50 before easing through a short instrumental link toward the refrain.

The refrain lands at 2:03 — Like a soul without a mind — and a string-led break (roughly 2:10–2:38) delays any repeat. A brief aye-aye interjection at 2:38 hands it back, and the refrain recurs three more times through about 3:06, the same lines over the same groove until the repetition itself does the work of a climax.

Nearly two minutes of groove extension on the same breakbeat, bass, and strings, with swells passing through and a spoken phrase — I don't know where this one came from — drifting in and out more than once across the span. No new section arrives; continuation is the content, and the length is the formal event.

The track comes apart in stages from 4:49: the beat loses its hold by 4:54, broken fragments persist to a near-silent gap at 5:07, one further return sounds between 5:08 and 5:15 and decays, and the last seconds are silence. No refrain comeback, no recap — the ending subtracts the frame rather than resolving it.

One contract runs all five minutes: a groove stated, sung over, handed to the strings, repeated until repetition is the argument, then let go unfinished.