The Waltzing Paradox
Après une guerre nucléaire mondiale, les rares survivants humains, défigurés par les radiations et le temps, se retrouvent à danser sur les ruines de leur propre civilisation, dans une dernière mascarade grotesque (« Waltz of the Last Mutants »). Mais les siècles passent, et ces mutants évoluent. Ils deviennent des êtres à l’intellect démesuré, s’affranchissant des limites biologiques et humaines. Dotés d’une technologie et d’une connaissance du cosmos surpassant tout ce que leurs ancêtres auraient pu imaginer, ils transcendent leur propre condition.
Voyageant à travers l’espace et le temps, ils observent leur passé, tentant d’y trouver une signification. Mais ce qu’ils découvrent est un paradoxe terrifiant : ils sont les figures mythiques qui hantaient les cauchemars des humains d’avant-guerre. Ce ne sont pas des extraterrestres, mais les vestiges d’une humanité éteinte, devenue autre chose. Leur propre existence est un écho du monde qu’ils ont perdu (« Echoes from the Flesh That Was »).
« In the ruins of their fathers’ pride, they danced…
They danced upon the graves of the past, laughing at the ghosts of history.
But time is a patient sculptor, and flesh is only clay…
What once crawled in ashes now drifts among the stars.
Look closely into the void…
For the eyes that gaze back may be your own.«
Waltz of the Last Mutants
“Behold, the twisted masquerade…”
We crawl from the ashes, dressed in decay,
Cockroaches waltzing in nuclear ballet.
Echoes of laughter haunt the blackened stone,
Kingdoms of dust where the neon gods shone.
Spin, spin, dance on the graves,
Burnt-out dreams of the golden age.
Spin, spin, laugh in the haze,
Who needs a past when there’s nothing to save?
Rust-eaten idols, the prophets are blind,
Their scriptures rewritten in fallout and grime.
The bones of empires crunch under our feet,
A waltz of the damned in radioactive heat.
« The sky is a mirror of shattered delights,
Reflecting the ghosts of electric nights…«
Spin, spin, shadows arise,
Dancing through time with luminous eyes.
Spin, spin, no one remains,
Only the echoes of forgotten names…
“Behold, the twisted masquerade…”
Echoes from the Flesh That Was
« We have watched… we have waited…«
(I – Ancient Eyes Watching)
They wander through shadows of worlds long erased,
Silent observers from futures displaced.
Echoing memories, fractals in time,
Lost in the currents of mankind’s decline.
(II – Before the Fire, Before the Fall)
Cities of glass, temples of steel,
Faith in machines, the promise surreal.
Gods built of circuits, blind to the end,
A thousand warnings, yet none to defend.
(III – Born Beyond Flesh)
We are the echoes, we are the ghosts,
Unbound by the limits of time’s fragile host.
No longer human, yet never divine,
Drifting through aeons, unshackled by time.
« We have watched… we have waited… and we will return.«
_________________
« They watched. They waited.
A thousand worlds collapsed in silence, yet the paradox remains.
We search the skies for visitors from beyond…
Never knowing they were here before the fall.
Never knowing they were… us.«
