♪ Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
She’ll be watching you ♪
She’s waited for you with a vested interest in your lives, mi amigos.
Noticing every twist and turn you’ve taken along the way, every battle fought on Deathrow. She controls your so-called freedom now, back upon the surface of Arcadia.
‘Every step you take, every move you make.’
She’s watching you. That’s the deal you made with her.
♪ Every step you take
She’ll be watching you ♪
Mi amigos, I speak not of the leader of your Uprising, Narcissa, but of the ghost of your past.
The faces you still see when you close your eyes, the memories that haunt your every move. It was your ghosts that saw you rotting away in a cell on Deathrow to begin with.
Dahlia Black, haunted by the vision of an unfaithful husband. She met her ghost the day she ended his life and it’s controlled her motives ever since.
Pym, haunted by an entire family of ghosts. His own family, taken by his own egotistical foolishness. Their blood is on his hands, and they will never rest while there he still breathes.
And Victor Doom, haunted by the ghost of his own creator. The product of a failed experiment, resulting in a failed attempt to sweep his very existence under the rug. Victor’s mere survival is enough to haunt him.
Your ghosts sing out to me, Uprising. Ghosts of your past that haunt your present and future. Yet you fight tooth and nail to escape your past.
Yet no matter how hard you may try get away, the ghosts of your past always watch over your shoulder.
I see them.
I hear their songs, wailing from beyond the grave.
♪ Oh, can’t you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take ♪
I too have my own ghosts, deep within my heart. She too haunts me. I hear her in every note La Musica sings.
But I have learnt not to run from my ghost, but to run towards her. I cannot outrun my past, but I can learn from it.
Black still fights against the song of unfaithfulness, her ghosts scornful melody controlling her with it’s tempestuous march.
Pym fights against his mornful song of grief, desperately trying to change the song of unfathomable loss.
Victor Doom fights against his very nature, his song filled with tension and a quest for answers.
The songs of your ghosts haunt you, control you, unheard yet you know them intimately.
So you do what you’ve always done, the only thing you can.
You fight.
Can’t you see? All you are doing is trying to fight the pain. Because you’re too weak to deal with it.
True strength comes not from fruitless Uprisings and attempts to ruffle the status-quo, but in standing firm and facing the music of your past.
I can hear the band play your ghost’s song. I see the ghost of your past, always watching you.
Do you hear her sing?