Cloudman launches us into the wild, slap-stick universe of Tom Hématome Cloudman, “the worst stuntman in the world and the galaxy.” Dionysos paints him as a crumpled paper bird, light enough to be tossed around yet heavy with bruises. Every time reason looks away, this human firework is ready to blow himself up again, turning the crack of breaking bones into a darkly comic drumroll. His only balance comes from perpetual motion, spinning like a blood-and-flesh top that would topple if it ever slowed down.
Beneath the cartoon chaos, the song salutes the beauty of glorious failure. Tom rushes toward pain not out of super-hero bravado but because the cheers of “encore” make him feel alive. Dionysos invites us to embrace our own dents and scratches, to keep leaping even when we know we will land with a thud. Cloudman is a poetic reminder that resilience can look messy, noisy, and hilariously ungraceful—yet it is still a form of flight.