A few seconds of quiet, and then everything at once — a fast, rigid pulse, drums and low movement, bright little figures riding over a warmer bed.

And there's the voice, right inside the tempo instead of above it. 'Senbonzakura' — a thousand cherry blossoms covered by night — and then, 'I can't hear your voice.'

And the fix for all that unreachable distance is a ray gun — she holds that line out long, straight over the rush.

Now some weight comes off — same tempo, but the fast pattern sits more exposed, all small attacks and quick turns.

And it thickens back up underneath — more mass, no less speed.

New verse, same sprint — 'a dauntless high-collar revolution,' 'a broadminded antiwar nation' — the images come at parade speed, and nothing slows down to explain them.

'Cast out the evil spirits — ICBM.' Folk exorcism and a missile in the same breath, and she's already off running the belt highway.

The refrain's back, and the scenery's hardened — 'a feast in a steel cage,' a view down from the guillotine — over the same drive as before.

The bottom lifts right onto the bleakest line — 'I can't hear the song of grief' — and for a few seconds the track feels almost airborne.

Then it gathers back underneath, and this return has a firmer bite to it.

Second verse, bigger parade — an officer, courtesans going back and forth, everybody called to gather. Costume history at full speed.

She counted the march off right inside the lyric — 'when the saints go marching in, one, two, three, four' — and the beat didn't flinch.

This is the deepest lock of the song — the low and middle holding the drive, quick bright figures flickering across the top, the vocal line stretched tight over it.

The refrain again — it just promised a grand finale, 'in between the applause,' and hands us night blossoms instead.

And the weapon escalated — a ray gun before, 'launch that flash bomb' now. Same frame, sharper burst, which is the arrangement's whole game too.

No voice for a while — just the pattern doing the talking: it dips, almost sits down, then comes right back up.

And now the front edge hardens — brighter, more compact — while the current underneath doesn't move at all.

It keeps cycling like that — little lifts and gathers, flexing on the run, the count never wavering.

And she's back — same highway lines as the first verse, still at a dead sprint.

The lyric just changed — last time she was looking down from the guillotine; this time she jumps off it — and right under her, the low end is gathering force.

There's the answer to all of it: 'you sing, and I dance.' After three minutes of voices that couldn't reach anyone, the reply is just two people moving — same cage, same blossoms.

One more gather around 4:00, then it lifts again — the final run a little more exposed, the end starting to show through the texture.

And the pattern finally lets go — not a stop, a staged loosening — until there's nothing left at all.

Silence. Four minutes at one speed, and it kept that lock almost to the last second.