The Black Parade, chapter 1
Now come one come all, to this tragic affair
Wipe off that make up
What's in is despair.
So throw on the black dress mixed in with the lot
You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not.
If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see
You can find out first hand what it's like to be me....
The monitor is beeping in it's overly-tragic manner. The doctors and nurses are shaking their heads. My mother is holding my hand, vowing that she will never let go. I doubt this, but I don't have any strength to tell her so.
The room in which I lie was once adorned with countless bunches of daisys and bouquets of roses. They were taken and placed somewhere where they wouldn't die from lack of love.
Unlike me. I'm left here to die, as this deadly disease eats away at each and every part of me.
I encourage your smiles, I expect you won't cry.
There's a throng of people surrounding me now. Waiting. Wishing. Some are even crying. I don't know why, I mean, barely anyone here knows who I am...
Death has that affect on people. It turns them brave, yet weak. It turns them hateful, yet lovelorn. It turns them stronger...yet more fragile.
Fragile in a sense that everything matters. Every little thing that happens makes a difference, every road we ride, every day we live, every heart we break. It all happens. And it all happens for a reason.
I know that there is more to come. It doesn't just end...this isn't it. This isn't just the day I die, this is the beginning of something else. Something tragic; something terrifying; something brutally honest. And yet, at the same time, this something is rather beautiful.
A million and one regrets come running into my already exploding mind.
They circle and chase each other ferociosly, leaving bloodstains on my heart and worry in my mind.
The people leave soon...they whisper their last goodbyes, but it's only you and I that know this isn't really the last time we will meet. This is a sweet diversion, at it's best.
They're asleep now. The Doctors have let me be for the night, and gone off home. Home...they can go home. They don't realise how lucky they are. I can't even leave this wretched bed. But that, of course, is all about to change...
When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all...
There are shadows reflecting through the newly opened ceiling. They're waiting on me, waiting for the right time. They want me, I belong with them. I'm not part of the human race any more.
I'll sing my songs, I'll cry my own tears, I'll bleed my own blood and I'll live my own death. I'll lead my own army into my own world and I'll be proud of it. I may not have enough energy to suppurt the human race, but I have more than is neccesary to lead an army of corpses.
But they won't be mere corpses. They will be Saints. They will be the Saints and I will be the Saviour. A perfect combination, with a not so perfect situation.
We'll travel constantly, making nightmares come true and dreams vanish. We'll give people more than what they want, making them aware of the phrase 'Be careful what you wish for.'
This story may not go down in history, and I may not go down as anything more than another felt-for patient. But that will change, as time goes by. Maybe real people will start to be born again and maybe we can change the world. Maybe.
The sad thing is that it's not our own world that needs to be changed. It's our people. No one understands, no one is anyone. No one is no one.
There are few real people left. I don't know if I am one of them, but if I am, then that's just too bad. All good things have to come to an end...weather I was good or bad, who knows?
It's just this is more than I, above anyone, expected. This isn't just another sob story, with sweet surrenders and unforgiven sins. The band that plays won't just play music, it will play anthems. Anthems that will, for sure, go down in history.
They themselves will be heroes. I don't know who they are - I doubt we'll ever meet. We might, of course. Expect the unexpected...
Come one come all.
Come one come all.
It's like a stuck record. It will repeat itself over and over again until I finally get there. Where? I don't know. I'm no genious. I'm just a man; just a boy.
Wipe off that make up.
Whats in is dispair...
Dispair.
Many hearts wouldn't be able to take this heart. But mine? My heart is one of the few that aren't black. If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that I can love. I have feelings, I am human, and yet to these people who are coming, I am more than that. I am their Saviour. It's alot to live up to, but it's what you have to do in a world like this.
When I grow up,
I want to be
I want to be nothing
Nothing at all.
The record plays on. No one dares change the song. This is what we play to, The End is what we aim for. Early graves are waiting and dead-end sins are calling. It's too late for the Collision Cults to fight, we have to take matters into our own hands.
You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not.
So that's it then. It's not just a painful trek through the mattress minds of a hospital bed...it's where it begins. Where we start our story. Our story of love, of loss, of death.
But whatever it is, it's ours. This is our story to share, and share it we will. I'm not entirely sure what descisions lie ahead, or what consequences lie beyond them, but I'm sure we'll overcome them. After all, this is going to be quite the adventure.
And I defy anyone who believes that there is a greater adventure than life.
Wipe off that make up
What's in is despair.
So throw on the black dress mixed in with the lot
You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not.
If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see
You can find out first hand what it's like to be me....
The monitor is beeping in it's overly-tragic manner. The doctors and nurses are shaking their heads. My mother is holding my hand, vowing that she will never let go. I doubt this, but I don't have any strength to tell her so.
The room in which I lie was once adorned with countless bunches of daisys and bouquets of roses. They were taken and placed somewhere where they wouldn't die from lack of love.
Unlike me. I'm left here to die, as this deadly disease eats away at each and every part of me.
I encourage your smiles, I expect you won't cry.
There's a throng of people surrounding me now. Waiting. Wishing. Some are even crying. I don't know why, I mean, barely anyone here knows who I am...
Death has that affect on people. It turns them brave, yet weak. It turns them hateful, yet lovelorn. It turns them stronger...yet more fragile.
Fragile in a sense that everything matters. Every little thing that happens makes a difference, every road we ride, every day we live, every heart we break. It all happens. And it all happens for a reason.
I know that there is more to come. It doesn't just end...this isn't it. This isn't just the day I die, this is the beginning of something else. Something tragic; something terrifying; something brutally honest. And yet, at the same time, this something is rather beautiful.
A million and one regrets come running into my already exploding mind.
They circle and chase each other ferociosly, leaving bloodstains on my heart and worry in my mind.
The people leave soon...they whisper their last goodbyes, but it's only you and I that know this isn't really the last time we will meet. This is a sweet diversion, at it's best.
They're asleep now. The Doctors have let me be for the night, and gone off home. Home...they can go home. They don't realise how lucky they are. I can't even leave this wretched bed. But that, of course, is all about to change...
When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all...
There are shadows reflecting through the newly opened ceiling. They're waiting on me, waiting for the right time. They want me, I belong with them. I'm not part of the human race any more.
I'll sing my songs, I'll cry my own tears, I'll bleed my own blood and I'll live my own death. I'll lead my own army into my own world and I'll be proud of it. I may not have enough energy to suppurt the human race, but I have more than is neccesary to lead an army of corpses.
But they won't be mere corpses. They will be Saints. They will be the Saints and I will be the Saviour. A perfect combination, with a not so perfect situation.
We'll travel constantly, making nightmares come true and dreams vanish. We'll give people more than what they want, making them aware of the phrase 'Be careful what you wish for.'
This story may not go down in history, and I may not go down as anything more than another felt-for patient. But that will change, as time goes by. Maybe real people will start to be born again and maybe we can change the world. Maybe.
The sad thing is that it's not our own world that needs to be changed. It's our people. No one understands, no one is anyone. No one is no one.
There are few real people left. I don't know if I am one of them, but if I am, then that's just too bad. All good things have to come to an end...weather I was good or bad, who knows?
It's just this is more than I, above anyone, expected. This isn't just another sob story, with sweet surrenders and unforgiven sins. The band that plays won't just play music, it will play anthems. Anthems that will, for sure, go down in history.
They themselves will be heroes. I don't know who they are - I doubt we'll ever meet. We might, of course. Expect the unexpected...
Come one come all.
Come one come all.
It's like a stuck record. It will repeat itself over and over again until I finally get there. Where? I don't know. I'm no genious. I'm just a man; just a boy.
Wipe off that make up.
Whats in is dispair...
Dispair.
Many hearts wouldn't be able to take this heart. But mine? My heart is one of the few that aren't black. If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that I can love. I have feelings, I am human, and yet to these people who are coming, I am more than that. I am their Saviour. It's alot to live up to, but it's what you have to do in a world like this.
When I grow up,
I want to be
I want to be nothing
Nothing at all.
The record plays on. No one dares change the song. This is what we play to, The End is what we aim for. Early graves are waiting and dead-end sins are calling. It's too late for the Collision Cults to fight, we have to take matters into our own hands.
You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not.
So that's it then. It's not just a painful trek through the mattress minds of a hospital bed...it's where it begins. Where we start our story. Our story of love, of loss, of death.
But whatever it is, it's ours. This is our story to share, and share it we will. I'm not entirely sure what descisions lie ahead, or what consequences lie beyond them, but I'm sure we'll overcome them. After all, this is going to be quite the adventure.
And I defy anyone who believes that there is a greater adventure than life.
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