One clean guitar figure, patient and angled, drawing the same shape over and over.

The pulse underneath is steady, but the accents keep leaning around it — every pass lands somewhere familiar, and your ear keeps making little corrections.

It's taken the clock out of the deal. Nothing here is in a hurry; the pattern just asks you to move in with it.

And there's the voice — 'Black then white are all I see in my infancy.'

The colors widen — red and yellow reaching out — while the band stays sparse around him, almost severe. More to see, nothing loosened.

'As below so above and beyond, I imagine.' The words start pressing against the line of reason, and the riff takes that literally — drawing a boundary, then making the boundary flex.

'Push the envelope, watch it bend.' At this point he might be describing his own guitar.

Now the warning: over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind. The track has already made that problem physical — you can count this pattern all day, and the drums and bass keep pulling the thought back into muscle. The head wants to solve it; the body just plays it.

The answer to all of that: 'Feed my will to feel my moment, drawing way outside the lines.'

Then the infancy colors come back — black then white, red and yellow — the same words as the opening, carrying more weight this time.

'There is so much more.' Four words, and the field opens.

The above-and-below verse returns with more force, tightening around 'drawn outside the lines of reason.'

Every pass through this material comes back heavier — more body in it, same space around it. Nothing's rushing toward revelation; it's tightening.

Second time through the overthinking warning, it cuts deeper: intuition withering, opportunities being left behind.

The choice gets made here — 'feed my will to feel this moment,' then urging to cross the line, reaching out to embrace the random, whatever may come.

Something's changed in the drive. No extra clutter — the same parts pushing harder, the rhythm finding a clearer way through.

'I embrace my desire to' — and he says it twice, the sentence left hanging on that little word 'to.'

The band draws in tight around him here, and the tightness works for him instead of against him.

The sentence finishes itself in a run — feel connected, weep like a widow, fathom the power, witness the beauty, bathe in the fountain — and the list keeps climbing. He sounds less like he's reporting a struggle than practicing it.

'To swing on the spiral' — the line keeps turning over on itself, describing its own motion.

The words reach for divinity and pull straight back to 'still be a human' — and the music never leaves the ground: drums and low end keep the feet under it, the guitar keeps the spiral visible above.

Still turning. Low end holding the ground, guitar circling above it — nothing needs to resolve yet.

Back on the ground — 'with my feet upon the ground I lose myself, between the sounds,' and then 'I feel it move across my skin.' The grip eases off; the motion doesn't collapse.

'Following our will and wind, we may just go where no one's been.' The spiral turns outward.

'Spiral out, keep going.' Again — same words, same shape, coming back under more pressure every time it returns.

Still going. This is the part where I stop counting it and just ride.