The song rides on a steady guitar line that feels almost skeletal, each note placed with deliberation. Against this, Samia’s voice, fragile but sharp in its uniqueness, commands attention. She doesn’t lean on traditional hooks or verse-chorus structure; instead, her words sprawl and loop, gathering force through her signature use of repetition. Phrases like “you’ll do what you want forever” or “your perfect body with my mind” become mantras, turning lyrical fragments into emotional anchors.

Her imagery veers from the playful (“Jack Sparrow’s compass”) to the haunting (“white tights around a cinderblock”), always skirting the line between vulnerability and absurdism. Much of the song feels lyric-centred, the guitar acting as a vessel rather than the driver. When the electric guitar does flare up, especially in pointillist accents, it colours the space rather than filling it. The minimalism gives the words room to bruise.

In its final stretch, a guitar slide snakes through in the last 25 seconds, like the floor tilting beneath you just before the song fades out. It’s a subtle, destabilising choice that makes the track linger after silence falls.

‘Cinder Block’ may frustrate listeners expecting a clear chorus, but its non-traditional structure is exactly what makes it so compelling. Samia wants you to sit with her looping thoughts, her contradictions, her half-jokes that turn into prayers. It’s uneasy, beautiful, and distinctly hers.