Capricorn

The album's celestial imagery finds its sharpest focus here — Koenig using astrology not as belief but as a framework for the human need to impose narrative on chaos. Musically the track has an almost baroque layering, piano and strings arriving in waves that feel simultaneously triumphant and elegiac, the kind of production that suggests a very specific type of New York autumn, golden-lit and already grieving its own passing. The rhythm section anchors the grandeur without deflating it, keeping the song from floating entirely into abstraction. Lyrically it wrestles with identity, fate, and the stories people inherit about themselves — whether a birth-month label can contain a person, and whether the wanting to be contained is itself the whole story. There's a darkness underneath the melodic warmth that becomes more audible on repeat listens, a recognition that certainty is something we construct rather than discover. Best suited to long drives, dusk light, the particular mood of an ending that hasn't quite arrived yet.