A haunting ballad exploring the themes of determination, nostalgia, and the cyclical nature of existence, 'Elysium' dives deep into the turmoil between despair and hope through vivid imagery, emotional depth, and a narrative that intertwines the fates of monsters and their unlikely champion. A must-listen for fans of dark and thought-provoking music.
Part One The Anomaly
Dust coats their blade,
Their clothing,
Their very soul.
Every monster that begged for their lives...
That tried to run.
Even those who held their ground...
None of them... ever stood a chance.
But there is one.
The comedian.
The lazybones.
The fool, who once made them laugh... in another life.
Harmless... or so he seemed.
He always knew more than he let on.
He judged them before.
He spoke truths he should not have known.
But this...
This hidden resolve?
They’ve never seen it in him before.
It stirs something in them.
It’s exhilarating.
Their soul hums in their mortal shell with barely contained DETERMINATION.
They wonder: Why now?
Why fight back, when there is so little left to fight for?
That grin — no longer goofy.
Twisted. Grim. Defiant.
Their first death… a shock.
The next few? Rage.
But now?
Now, they are manic.
Hungry.
KARMA burns through their veins.
His judgment... makes them feel alive.
How many times has he killed them?
They do not know.
But they crave it.
He knows he can’t win.
At least not forever...
Yet... he stands.
And they admire him for that.
…Far more than they should.
It is a perverted sentimentality.
They are proud...
That he is finally giving his all.
But it changes nothing.
He will fall... dust, just like the rest.
An inevitable fate—
…One he did not make easy.
Part Two – The Comedian
how many times did he kill them...?
he doesn't know.
they keep coming back.
he thought... maybe he could get through to them.
with friendship, once.
now, with force.
but they’re getting better.
they’re lasting longer.
sooner or later...
he’ll be dust, like the rest.
and the world?
the world will be gone.
he knows it doesn’t matter.
but still—he fights.
because he knows.
there is no LATER.
maybe...
if the world resets, another him will live.
but this one... this version...
might be the last.
it’s not about being the last monster.
it’s not even about right or wrong.
he is what stands between them… and the absolute.
and so he stands.
still smiling.
still fighting.
he wonders, sometimes—
if telling the same joke over and over until it stops being funny...
that’s the best metaphor for this song and dance, huh?
or maybe it IS the joke.
well, he has always been a man of bad jokes.
still...
he stares down this demonic child.
here we go again.
Part Three The Eye
The Judgement Hall... is finite.
A tiled golden cage.
Pillars stretch endlessly — floor to ceiling —
…as if holding up the sky itself.
Tinted glass fractures sunlight into god rays,
cutting the air with gold and shadow.
The scent of golden flowers lingers.
Birds... sing.
But beneath it all?
A hum.
Not music.
But blood.
Marrow.
Memory.
The Hall is spotless.
Scrubbed clean by resets.
No ash.
No blood.
But the air remembers.
A paradox.
A phantom pain.
The grinning judge feels it.
His bones creak with battles never fought.
His breath, a hollow wind.
He shouldn’t remember.
…but his soul does.
He stands before them.
They, before him.
Only a few steps away.
Yet the distance…
is infinite.
The megalomaniac feels the bone still lodged in their shoulder—
A wound from a fight that never happened—
or perhaps — has yet to.
Their fingers twitch.
Phantom heat licks their skin from a blast that did not occur—
or — is still to come.
The Hall is pristine…
But it reeks.
Of futures already lived,
And pasts yet to come.
The bell tolls.
Red bleeds through gold
Gold shines within red
Red... and gold.
Gold... and red.
Red and gold and red and gold andredgoldredgo—
Chords not available
Beat not available
Elysium
Part One The Anomaly
Dust coats their blade,
Their clothing,
Their very soul.
Every monster that begged for their lives...
That tried to run.
Even those who held their ground...
None of them... ever stood a chance.
But there is one.
The comedian.
The lazybones.
The fool, who once made them laugh... in another life.
Harmless... or so he seemed.
He always knew more than he let on.
He judged them before.
He spoke truths he should not have known.
But this...
This hidden resolve?
They’ve never seen it in him before.
It stirs something in them.
It’s exhilarating.
Their soul hums in their mortal shell with barely contained DETERMINATION.
They wonder: Why now?
Why fight back, when there is so little left to fight for?
That grin — no longer goofy.
Twisted. Grim. Defiant.
Their first death… a shock.
The next few? Rage.
But now?
Now, they are manic.
Hungry.
KARMA burns through their veins.
His judgment... makes them feel alive.
How many times has he killed them?
They do not know.
But they crave it.
He knows he can’t win.
At least not forever...
Yet... he stands.
And they admire him for that.
…Far more than they should.
It is a perverted sentimentality.
They are proud...
That he is finally giving his all.
But it changes nothing.
He will fall... dust, just like the rest.
An inevitable fate—
…One he did not make easy.
Part Two – The Comedian
how many times did he kill them...?
he doesn't know.
they keep coming back.
he thought... maybe he could get through to them.
with friendship, once.
now, with force.
but they’re getting better.
they’re lasting longer.
sooner or later...
he’ll be dust, like the rest.
and the world?
the world will be gone.
he knows it doesn’t matter.
but still—he fights.
because he knows.
there is no LATER.
maybe...
if the world resets, another him will live.
but this one... this version...
might be the last.
it’s not about being the last monster.
it’s not even about right or wrong.
he is what stands between them… and the absolute.
and so he stands.
still smiling.
still fighting.
he wonders, sometimes—
if telling the same joke over and over until it stops being funny...
that’s the best metaphor for this song and dance, huh?
or maybe it IS the joke.
well, he has always been a man of bad jokes.
still...
he stares down this demonic child.
here we go again.
Part Three The Eye
The Judgement Hall... is finite.
A tiled golden cage.
Pillars stretch endlessly — floor to ceiling —
…as if holding up the sky itself.
Tinted glass fractures sunlight into god rays,
cutting the air with gold and shadow.
The scent of golden flowers lingers.
Birds... sing.
But beneath it all?
A hum.
Not music.
But blood.
Marrow.
Memory.
The Hall is spotless.
Scrubbed clean by resets.
No ash.
No blood.
But the air remembers.
A paradox.
A phantom pain.
The grinning judge feels it.
His bones creak with battles never fought.
His breath, a hollow wind.
He shouldn’t remember.
…but his soul does.
He stands before them.
They, before him.
Only a few steps away.
Yet the distance…
is infinite.
The megalomaniac feels the bone still lodged in their shoulder—
A wound from a fight that never happened—
or perhaps — has yet to.
Their fingers twitch.
Phantom heat licks their skin from a blast that did not occur—
or — is still to come.
The Hall is pristine…
But it reeks.
Of futures already lived,
And pasts yet to come.
The bell tolls.
Red bleeds through gold
Gold shines within red
Red... and gold.
Gold... and red.
Red and gold and red and gold andredgoldredgo—
undertale