In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Narrator:
No one was left who could remember how it had happened, how the world had fallen under darkness.
At least no one who would do anything.
No one who would oppose the robots.
No one who would challenge their power, or so Dr. Wily believed...
Twenty Floors above the dark streets of the city, Dr. Light lived in a run-down tenement.
An eccentric and brilliant man. Light was a loner, a thinker, a man of ideas.
Ideas forbidden in Wiley's society.
The society for which he worked.
The society in which he lived.
The society that he would set free.
And so Light worked, far into the night, when the watchful eyes of Wiley's robots weren't upon him.
He'd set his skillful hands to the task of creating a device to bring about a change, to create a machine to bring freedom, to create a man to save the world.
Twelve years Light worked and on a cold night in the year 200X, Protoman was born.
A perfet man, an unbeatable machine, hell-bent on destroying every evil standing between man and freedom, built for one purpose, to destroy Wiley's army of evil robots.
Ready, willing, prepared to fight
Cutman
Gutsman
Elecman
Bombman
Fireman
Iceman
Proto
Fireman:
Attack!
Narrator:
Fight.
And as the smoke cleared. Wiley rose above the countless robots remaining. Protoman was wounded, low on energy, struggling to remain standing as Wiley ordered the final attack.
The death of Protoman.
The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed. They watched them beat him, they watched them break him, they watched his last defense deployed.
There was not a man among them who could let himself be heard.
But from the cword, from the collective fear, arose these broken words:
We are the dead
We are the dead
Human Choir: What have we done?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human CHoir: What will we do?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: Where will we turn?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: Is there nothing we can do?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: How did it come to this?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: How did we go so wrong?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: We are the dead
No one was left who could remember how it had happened, how the world had fallen under darkness.
At least no one who would do anything.
No one who would oppose the robots.
No one who would challenge their power, or so Dr. Wily believed...
Twenty Floors above the dark streets of the city, Dr. Light lived in a run-down tenement.
An eccentric and brilliant man. Light was a loner, a thinker, a man of ideas.
Ideas forbidden in Wiley's society.
The society for which he worked.
The society in which he lived.
The society that he would set free.
And so Light worked, far into the night, when the watchful eyes of Wiley's robots weren't upon him.
He'd set his skillful hands to the task of creating a device to bring about a change, to create a machine to bring freedom, to create a man to save the world.
Twelve years Light worked and on a cold night in the year 200X, Protoman was born.
A perfet man, an unbeatable machine, hell-bent on destroying every evil standing between man and freedom, built for one purpose, to destroy Wiley's army of evil robots.
Ready, willing, prepared to fight
Cutman
Gutsman
Elecman
Bombman
Fireman
Iceman
Proto
Fireman:
Attack!
Narrator:
Fight.
And as the smoke cleared. Wiley rose above the countless robots remaining. Protoman was wounded, low on energy, struggling to remain standing as Wiley ordered the final attack.
The death of Protoman.
The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed. They watched them beat him, they watched them break him, they watched his last defense deployed.
There was not a man among them who could let himself be heard.
But from the cword, from the collective fear, arose these broken words:
We are the dead
We are the dead
Human Choir: What have we done?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human CHoir: What will we do?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: Where will we turn?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: Is there nothing we can do?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: How did it come to this?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: How did we go so wrong?
Narrator: We are the dead
Human Choir: We are the dead
Lyrics submitted by sandswipe
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