Remember me, though I have to say goodbye
Remember me, don’t let it make you cry
For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart.
I hear their song, Grimskull.
Those that have come and gone, those souls forgotten in your war on the Third Eye. Victims of circumstance, collateral damage in the path to your freedom.
They sing out to you their lament, but your ears stopped hearing their song long ago. I hear their song, begging you. Asking you one simple request.
To remember them.
Remember me, though I have to travel far
Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be
Until you’re in my arms again.
Those that follow you hear their song, they tend to their memories. I see them come and go, light candles and place flowers upon altars of memories. Their sorrow brings me life, their grief allows my strings to hum their notes. They sing the songs of those you couldn’t save, songs kept alive by those who care enough to sing it.
But you haven’t been singing their song, Grimskull.
You’ve only been singing your own.
Yours is a song steeped in tragedy, right from the cadence of its opening beat where it echoes your past. But as much as you demand that your seguidores who heed your words sing along, it is a solo. Yours is a dominant melody that drowns out the voices of all around it. Its tune brings a single message, of embracing the pain and trusting the plans of the Slumgod.
They’ve been trying to sing its sad, pain-filled melody for too long Grimskull.
Do you hear it?
The silence brought about by your venture here into Anthesteria?
The sound of your choir no longer singing along to your demanding words. Do you hear the defiance in his voice as that perro stands up to you? It echoes out even as I sing. The memories of all those that have died in your battle hang in the balance as that single word hangs in the air like a suspended chord, begging out to be resolved.
You’ve lost them, Grimskull. Their songs fade from you as yours is the only one that you hear. For that is all you care about, amigo. Not your followers, not their freedom or the songs they cry out. Not their memories as more die for your cause. Only your plan, your message, your song.
Anthesteria falls silent with a universal held breath, a caesura that gives you freedom to sing your lungs out. Hear me as I step out of the shadows and cue your song to play.
“What’s going on here?”
The stage is yours. There’s nowhere to hide when the spotlight hits you. I hear the songs of your people calling you, but do you care enough to sing along? Let me strum the chord and get you started. Let the music play.
“Remember me.”