Welcome To The Black Parade. 

Look alive, sunshine. One-oh-nine in the sky, but the pigs won't quit. You're here with me: Doctor Death-Defy. I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter, pumpin' out the slaughter-matic sounds to keep you live. A system failure for the masses. Anti-matter for the master-plan louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny. This one's for all you rock and rollers, all you crash queens and motor babies. Listen up! The future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary. It's time to do it now and do it loud. Killjoys, make some noise!