Cyclic Deviation

I hear this at one-two-five not as a sprint but a siege: the OHM Series blueprint distilled into a single, unyielding loop that gains mass with every rotation. The energy is absolute—there is no dip, no exhale, just a piston-driven churn in Bb minor that feels like sweat condensing on cold concrete walls.

I would save it for after-hours ammunition, the kind of weapon I reach for when the room is thinning and only the faithful remain. There is no melody to flatter the sunrise, only rhythm, pressure, and the slow realisation that the cyclic deviation is not a bug but the entire architecture.