A burned-out army warrior,

Loyal to your Count.

Your father was destroyed in the war,

Leaving you with anguish in your heart.

You understand very little,

About other people's feelings.

But is it simply because,

Your own feelings choke you up?

Do they blind you?

Do they deafen you?

Do they hold you hostage,

And bind you without mercy?

Yes, I have seen your dreams,

Yes, I know your feelings,

Brawn over brains is what they all think of you,

O'Chunks.


Pink hair, blue skin,

How unusual you are.

You owe the Count your life,

And feel more than just friendship between you.

Your past is mysterious,

Yes indeed.

Envious of a Pixl,

And a slight control freak.

But is it simply because,

You can't bear this feeling,

Of love sickness and loss,

Is that the reason?

The reason you brood,

The reason you love,

Secretly, silently,

Nastasia.


Master of Dimensions,

Pleaser of Crowds,

And yet how they stare at you,

A masked, flying jester.

How ridiculous you look!

That eternal smile,

That purple jester costume,

Hiding those confused feelings.

Enemy of Blumiere,

Evil on the outside,

But inside, yes,

There is a human.

Are you crazy, mad?

Or simply misunderstood?

Yes, they look at you with disgust,

Dimentio.


A girl with a diary,

And affection for a magician.

Happy and bubbly,

Silly, carefree.

But what is hidden,

Beneath the happiness?

Secrets and lies.

Secrets and lies.

Not at all a spoiled brat,

More like a young girl,

With much of her life ahead of her,

Yet no idea how she will use it.

And so you keep close to the Count,

But will he protect you?

No-one knows.

Mimi.


From the Tribe of Darkness,

Left with nothing but memories,

Bittersweet things they are,

Of you and your love.

How you yearn for her again!

And yet now you are reunited,

You continue to call yourself,

By that wretched name.

Oh, why do you do it?

Call yourself Bleck,

Responsible for the Void,

And the Chaos Heart as well.

Back with your true love,

Yet something nags at the back of your mind.

Are they the memories of the hateful old days?

Count Blumiere. Bleck.


The masked man,

Overshadowed by a brother,

That you don't know if you love,

And who continually shuns your presence.

Does he even know you exist?

Does he even care?

You try to convince yourself,

Yet is it the truth?

Brainwashed into your opposite,

You call yourself the Green Thunder,

And yet you continually brood,

On that horrific question.

Behind the mask,

Lies a helpless brother.

Wondering, wondering,

Mr. L. Luigi.