In “Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter,” Joni Mitchell sings that “the eagle and the serpent are at war in me / the serpent fighting for blind desire / the eagle for clarity.” How hard does the serpent fight? Mitchell sings about a “split tongue spirit” who tells the singer that “your serpent cannot be denied.” Forty-seven years later, Emily Allan is that reckless daughter incarnate and she has put the serpent center stage for her brilliant new song, “Steps to Destruction.”

What she has created is the “Hotel California” of gaslighting, a narrative that takes the listener on a brief tour of a long relationship. The story of “Steps to Destruction” is a meet-cute for maybe 15 seconds before the serpent takes over: “I manipulate you into maintaining an intimate relationship with me under the guise of liberated desire and sexual autonomy. We enter a free space of play and association. I say that a relationship is simply the erotic thrill of the threat of infidelity. You are impressed by that analysis.” Eventually, the singer’s boyfriend steals one of her ideas, but the serpent gets her revenge through a series of underminings and passive-aggressive spins that leave the cursed couple back where their relationship began. “You tell me you’re going to die. I say I will always love you and maybe someday we can be friends again, remember?” It is 40 years of New York dating condensed into a bitter plug of sociopathic bouillon.

“When a man doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful or something on the wrong day, the serpent starts saying, ‘He has to pay for this.’”

“Every woman has a serpent inside her,” Allan told me, explaining her “snake woman theory.” “When a man doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful or something on the wrong day, the serpent starts saying, ‘He has to pay for this,’” Allan said. “I can say something passive aggressive and make him doubt himself and put him on edge. And I’m a warrior, I’m a terrorist for good, but sometimes actually it’s not the right thing to do to listen to the snake, because you end up destroying relationships and hurting people who love you.”

When she performed the song a year ago at the Poetry Project, the room electrified. As the late, great Cecila Gentili put it, after Allan was done—“Who the fuck are you?” None of us knew, nor did anybody know where the song was going. What first lands as funny begins to feel like a spotlight sweeping across all the listeners. If you feel safe, just wait for the next verse. Failed artist? You’re up soon. Parents? The serpent will see you now.

Like LCD Soundsystem’s “Losing My Edge,” “Steps to Destruction” moves like a club song but talks like something else. The electronic production by E.J. O’Hara is basic and propulsive, more ’80s oddity than dance hit. In the video, directed by Leah Hennessey, filmmaker Peter Vack plays the clueless mark, the boy on the subway who put on pointe shoes because the serpent told him to. A distant voice that feels like your own haunts Allan’s track, as if the serpent has taken over a therapy session and is revealing all of the subtle manipulations you hoped would remain invisible to others. Destruction begins at home.