Bass and drum machine lock a quick martial pulse before any voice arrives. The form’s contract is the groove itself.

Baritone voice enters on I hear the roar of a big machine. Empire images stack through doubled empire down, then the middle path tightens into title and invitation: Lucretia, my reflection / Dance the ghost with me.

An instrumental span keeps the same motor running with no new vocal claim—delay by continuation rather than by contrast.

The opening line re-enters. Verse matter sharpens (love lost, fire at will, dive bombers) before the familiar middle path and Lucretia refrain restate the song’s center.

New lyric ground: we look hard, we look through, little evidence, the repeated I don’t feel. The pulse does not break; the form shifts by withholding certainty while the march keeps going.

Attention and motor hold loosen; pressure empties; the track thins and stops cold rather than resolving on the refrain.

Two matched vocal cycles ride one unbroken martial frame; a late inward turn refuses certainty, and the ending simply withdraws.