The highly anticipated single starts with nothing short of a bold statement - "I have something to say". It lands suddenly, without preamble and like less of an introduction and more of an insistence. Where her earlier work felt distant, half-sceptical, 'Miyazaki' arrives grounded and deliberate. If she has stepped into something more mainstream, alt-pop with a rockier spine, it’s not as a compromise so much as a confrontation. Paloma wants to be heard, and she makes it impossible to ignore.

The structure follows a familiar build and release, but the emotion resists that neat arc. This isn’t a slow burn, there is no careful accumulation of feeling. The song doesn’t become rage, it already begins there. Alive, breathing. The percussion underscores it: a steady unadorned drum beat that trades atmosphere for insistence. Her vocals, too, feel stripped back, cleaner, closer - less myth and more body.

To accompany the song, Paloma released a video, with something that feels like a quiet invocation of Joan Of Arc. It reframes her as both creator and martyr, suggesting that to make is equally to endure. That tension runs through the lyrics: "Please don’t let them take it from me’" lands not as melodrama, but as necessity, presenting art as something vital, almost biological.

She holds her point in contrasting ways between verses, with the first verse questioning "never dying, is that what you are all striving for" with the pre-chorus demanding "I vow to live", set against the unsettling question. Midway through, the track slips into something more ritualistic. Pulsing synths rise, and a faint witchy atmosphere emerges, something reminiscent of Florence + The Machine, emotion not expressed but summoned. The lyrics of "I’m not a violent person but my work is one exception" reframe creation as both an act of rupture and a necessary disturbance.  

There’s a lingering ambiguity in "changes the colour of the air that I breathe". It speaks to total immersion, her work as something inhaled and lived but also hints at distortion, perhaps even contamination taking effect by the environmental impact of artificial intelligence. In a world increasingly shaped by artificial "creation", the line feels like a hushed warning. 

Near the end of the 'Miyazaki', Paloma speaks the simplest truth: "I do it unpaid, unseen and unthanked". Not for recognition, not even for survival, but for experience of life fully, on her own terms. The song ultimately resists the idea of permanence without presence. It argues, instead, for something messier, something more human. To feel, to create, to burn briefly and mean it.