That little electronic tick is already the song's floor, with the low synth held back behind it instead of opening into a big chord.

Collins comes in close and cool on “I can feel it,” and the track still leaves a lot of dark space around his voice.

The verse starts turning that waiting into accusation, but the pulse underneath stays almost unnervingly even.

Even on the drowning image, he doesn't shout it; the cruelty lands inside that same controlled, narrow backing.

Now the lyric is in witness mode, “I was there,” and the music still refuses to rush toward a payoff.

When the title phrase returns, it sounds less like atmosphere now and more like something he's been holding in his mouth the whole time.

The arrangement is still spare as “I remember” arrives; the vocal has room to sit there without the track softening around it.

On the hidden-pain line, the surface stays controlled: no big melodic sob, just the voice, the pulse, and that tightening synth space.

Now the gated drums enter, and the song's weight finally becomes physical: wide hits, sharply cut off, pushing under the chorus.

The same air-tonight refrain is back, but it isn't floating the same way anymore; the clipped drums are carrying it from below.

From here the repeated “oh Lord” phrases ride the drums instead of just hanging over the machine pulse.

Late in the ride, the voice and drums keep circling the same material, with small gaps letting the track show its seams.

The drive starts to break away here, leaving the ending more like withdrawal than resolution.