Join Me In Death
A Song Sung in Sorrow
The float that The Singer stood on was like any other parade float I'd seen. However, with the red tassels that decorated it's sides and the giant white skull on the front, made of the same tassels as the red, it had it's own style. Ribbons wound their way over the entire thing, completing it's look.
The other parade members crowded around it as a microphone suddenly appeared on it. Next to it, a grand piano appeared, looking elegant as it stood on the float. It was then that I realized that the float was actually a stage. The Singer took his place in front of the microphone. With the grace of a dancer, he stepped forward and took hold of the device.
"Could Mother War assist me with this song?", he requested. The sound of his voice, melodic and wistful, carried over the heads of the Black Parade members and I watched as they made way for another person to climb onto the float.
It was a woman. She wore another crinoline dress that went down to the ground with the cage over the dress. A gas mask obscured her features from the crowd and knotted blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders from under it. If I had still been alive, I probably would have been afraid of her.
She sat down at the grand piano and nodded silently to The Singer. He deftly pulled off his skeleton mask again to talk without it muffling his voice.
"Let's begin again!", he cried. The float began moving forward and the people around me let out a shout of joy.
Mother War began playing, the notes of the piano making the crowd go silent as they listened and followed behind the float.
The song started with high notes and as they gradually went down in tone, The Singer began singing.
"When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son when, you grow up,
will you be, the savior of the broken,
the beaten and the damned?
He said, "Will you defeat them, your demons,
and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?
Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom,
To lead you in the summer,
To join the Black Parade!"
I felt a thrill go through me at the sound of his voice. I couldn't remember hearing a voice so soulful and filled with emotion. I walked next to Helena, the beat of the music causing the stride in my step. The more artistically inclined members were dancing as they moved.
Suddenly the tempo changed as more complex notes were produced from the piano. The Singer's leg bounced up and down to the beat and he began bellowing into the microphone. His ragged voice matched the piano's sweet notes in a beautiful way.
"Sometimes I get the feeling,
She's watching over me,
and other times, I feel like I should go.
When through it all, the rise and fall,
the bodies in the street.
And when you're gone, we want you all to know.
We'll carry on! We'll carry on!
And though you're dead and gone believe me,
your memory will carry on!"
In that instance, I understood what this entire reality was about. We were here to carry on our memories, and the memories of the people we loved that were still living. To carry on those memories would hopefully bring us together in death.
Helena and I were nearly next to the float and as I stared up at The Singer, a sudden change in his posture caught my eye. He was kneeling down, almost like a man that was praying, and I watched as he suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy, who had to sing this song
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
I! don't! care!"
His face was one of agony and torment as he continued on with the chorus. I felt something tug at my heartstrings as I watched on. The dancers had theatrically fallen onto the ground at his exclamation, and now bounced up as he finished his song. A man in the crowd must have had a drum because as it was finished, a snare drum's beat could be heard. I felt like a soldier marching in line amongst an army.
The Singer looked down at me as he took a bow and stepped down off the parade float.
"Do you understand now?", he asked softly, the glow of the performance still in his eyes.
The only motion I was capable of was nodding.
The other parade members crowded around it as a microphone suddenly appeared on it. Next to it, a grand piano appeared, looking elegant as it stood on the float. It was then that I realized that the float was actually a stage. The Singer took his place in front of the microphone. With the grace of a dancer, he stepped forward and took hold of the device.
"Could Mother War assist me with this song?", he requested. The sound of his voice, melodic and wistful, carried over the heads of the Black Parade members and I watched as they made way for another person to climb onto the float.
It was a woman. She wore another crinoline dress that went down to the ground with the cage over the dress. A gas mask obscured her features from the crowd and knotted blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders from under it. If I had still been alive, I probably would have been afraid of her.
She sat down at the grand piano and nodded silently to The Singer. He deftly pulled off his skeleton mask again to talk without it muffling his voice.
"Let's begin again!", he cried. The float began moving forward and the people around me let out a shout of joy.
Mother War began playing, the notes of the piano making the crowd go silent as they listened and followed behind the float.
The song started with high notes and as they gradually went down in tone, The Singer began singing.
"When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son when, you grow up,
will you be, the savior of the broken,
the beaten and the damned?
He said, "Will you defeat them, your demons,
and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?
Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom,
To lead you in the summer,
To join the Black Parade!"
I felt a thrill go through me at the sound of his voice. I couldn't remember hearing a voice so soulful and filled with emotion. I walked next to Helena, the beat of the music causing the stride in my step. The more artistically inclined members were dancing as they moved.
Suddenly the tempo changed as more complex notes were produced from the piano. The Singer's leg bounced up and down to the beat and he began bellowing into the microphone. His ragged voice matched the piano's sweet notes in a beautiful way.
"Sometimes I get the feeling,
She's watching over me,
and other times, I feel like I should go.
When through it all, the rise and fall,
the bodies in the street.
And when you're gone, we want you all to know.
We'll carry on! We'll carry on!
And though you're dead and gone believe me,
your memory will carry on!"
In that instance, I understood what this entire reality was about. We were here to carry on our memories, and the memories of the people we loved that were still living. To carry on those memories would hopefully bring us together in death.
Helena and I were nearly next to the float and as I stared up at The Singer, a sudden change in his posture caught my eye. He was kneeling down, almost like a man that was praying, and I watched as he suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part
I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy, who had to sing this song
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
I! don't! care!"
His face was one of agony and torment as he continued on with the chorus. I felt something tug at my heartstrings as I watched on. The dancers had theatrically fallen onto the ground at his exclamation, and now bounced up as he finished his song. A man in the crowd must have had a drum because as it was finished, a snare drum's beat could be heard. I felt like a soldier marching in line amongst an army.
The Singer looked down at me as he took a bow and stepped down off the parade float.
"Do you understand now?", he asked softly, the glow of the performance still in his eyes.
The only motion I was capable of was nodding.
Please update this is really good!
2/27/15