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Misbegotten Candy

by Pandora's Toybox

supported by
Poesy Rider
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Poesy Rider Paroles mises à part, on se situe musicalement dans la lignée de Nightmare revisited, avec des petits diablotins, des monstres un peu patauds, des zombies végétariens, etc. un véritable Jack-in-the-box ! Réjouissant ! Favorite track: Slaves to the Sleigh.
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1.
Just because you could never be What you really wanted to be You need a cock full of seeds To plant your candy apple tree But don’t be looking my way With your modus operandi Your merchandise is overpriced And I don’t need your Misbegotten Candy. It’s an incubator’s right To sire parasites To steal away your life For one night of sweet delight… Malaise, cancer in your box Inveigles them like gummy drops Fellatio and lollipops Heart as black as licorice. Crippled by your candy cane Sugar coursing through your veins (Your) frosting driving them insane Waiting for your liquored kiss. We’ve every right to be malicious, can’t you see? ’Cause we hold every piece of delicious, dirty treats. So don’t you be suspicious, afraid or superstitious When we come for you! One by one, they are all inseminated Always breeding constantly in a bleeding eternity Spawning little bundles of blood to be disseminated The perpetuation of the masses is a contagious maternity. In a world replete with fertility The twisted whisper of vivid vivisectomies Misbegotten, innocence forgotten… “We’re everywhere…” Breeding the new disease! It’s a sweet tooth, uncouth society No other candy store contains such variety But it’s all the same, every luscious little dame Is a glutton for the fuckin’ that will never know satiety!
2.
3.
With the apotheosis of technology A whole new era of terror has come alive to haunt our dreams Tyranny, spyware networks poised to scrutinize Keylogged without mercy; no escape from the electric eyes! Hacking through the firewalls like a battleaxe in the night Downloading porn and information by way of secret satellite In a subterranean basement lair, he sits by monitor light A new champion has now logged in to save the world tonight! Gaze into the webcam screen and you will see A cyberspace crusader, a haxx0r prodigy! Fingers on the keyboard with Hot Pockets close at hand Sir Reberal Kortex has arrived to take command! Here he comes now, the hero of a modern breed Blessed with ingenuity to end your crooked creed! Drawing ladies far and wide with web-space weaving skills Their eyes light up with primal lust when his cursor moves in for the kill! He’s always there for us He is the one we love and trust He knows the codes, he sets the mode He blocks the junk – our cyber-hunk Performing system checks – Sir Reberal Kortex! You’ve seen him in the comic books On podcasts and T.V. He’s got nanobots running through his blood The perfect anatomy! Lesser nerds bow down before The Master of the inter-tubes! He doesn’t even need to leave the house To lay the smack-down on the n00bs! On top of the tabletops Like Mutants & Masterminds You better not fuck with the man when he says ”THE POWER IS MINE!!!” He’s rolling the dice and he’s got a vice: The salvation of the digital universe! Interface from a basement space May his enemies be forever cursed! ”I AM INTERFACE!!!” He's always there for me He sends his file transfer love for free The MP3s and DVDs; it’s like an online shopping spree! Having chatroom sex – Sir Reberal Kortex!
4.
In the name of efficiency Darkness in the hearts of middlemen To be alive is a deficiency If you worked here, you would understand. Paperwork and apathy Just too many damn mouths to feed Management and bureaucracy Everybody’s got their complaints and needs… Mr. Meyer has found the way Necrotic despots earned his signature A policy designed to earn the pay It’s in our nature. That unnatural cycle – the dead come to work Monotonous lives without meaning Destinies hijacked without benefits or perks No more distracting futures or useless daydreaming… Mr. Meyer keeps us working away We ain’t never gonna see the light of day The higher-ups say “the dead deserve no pay!” We down in the Mire. He just sits around in his office room Collecting profit from the working man’s collective doom A skeleton crew, never to be exhumed We down in the Mire. A Mortuary quite contrary City maintenance holds the keys The waste of the world we’re bound to bury In paychecks and salaries… And so he signed the documents To prove his complicity Shoveled out the excrement Fodder for necromancy. Spade’s edge driven through their heads There’s no source of labor like the walking dead No complaints, no appetites to be fed No time off, and no words to be said. Made so much headway in the sewers and streets No, this ain’t no break; no, it’s never a break. Mr. Meyer – he likes to keep it discrete Down in the Mire – where the corpses stay awake.
5.
6.
Brothel 04:20
La la la. We anticipate your needs… Lascivious thrills for reasonable fees Vendors in the flesh trade Courtesans and fetish maids Come join us at the Brothel for a while… We’re pretty enough to pay for ‘Cause we are the ones who bear the holes So ravage away and remain unaware Of who’s really in control… We live to serve… At the mercy of every lecher and perv Leave your dignity at the door No need to be ashamed of your needs anymore. La la la. Inscribe our bodies with scars Color our skin with bruises Bring our corpses home with you We’re the gender of a thousand uses. All dressed up for you… Here to relieve your loins of the blues Critics all swoon for the concubines Ballet heels pirouette across the spine We’re pretty enough to die for (Because) / (Of course) we just don’t care anymore Versatile harlots and virtual dreams The virtuous life is a chore. Please take me out to play... Advertise us with songs Gaze upon us from the Web Pass judgment through the photographs To keep this disparity fed. It’s all about profit, it’s all about ploy Born to be commodities; we exist to be toys It’s all about objects, it’s all become abject We’re the curvaceous oddities; yours to reject. We’ll kiss with passion just to make you hard Cloying with the sugar daddies to reap the rewards The brothel calls out to fiends of all kinds To live out their fantasies – ‘cause we’re paid to pay no mind.
7.
Business, business, all life short We work to provide for the ones we failed to abort Happiness? Adults know nothing of the sort Yet we allow brats to cavort. Oh, poor little grown-ups, hung by a thread On a hotel ceiling, or awake with the dead The carefree kids celebrate instead And dance their way to oblivion's bed... The children shape effigies in the snow And speak of a future that they'll never know Ebullient eyes, bright and unafraid Will despair when the snowmen are melting away... Melting away... Melting away to their dismay... Sickness, sickness, trouble and pox Sylvan midgets in storm-worn workshops Crimson hue on the toys in the box And edible coins from a fat man's socks. Oh, come heavy winter, come to a crawl Pretend it's fun when the snowflakes fall The fireplace fades to a simmering pall And the little ones learn to manipulate dolls. The children spread their wings in the snow Stormstruck cherubs on wings of sorrow Mittens shape frost like lumps of clay That will scorch in the sun and fall to decay Fall to decay... Fall to decay and fade to gray... Xmas lights are the bondage cords Gift wrapped dollies for the gibbering hordes Plastic dreams for the lost and ignored All slaves to the sleigh, come climb aboard! It's Xmas time in the circus for the living Nobody has the time for love or forgiving A smile on the face for the same old thing Choirs filled with heirs sing to the dead shells, shivering... Let's wrap this up! (With) Cash for the merchandise Cash for the little tykes Cracks in the core of a frozen paradise!

about

The first EP from Pandora's Toybox, this release tells of such wholesome subject matters like abortion, bastard children, zombie slavery, and whores.

credits

released August 2, 2011

All songs written by Joshua Carrig

Produced by Benjamin Jon at Stillwork Studios in Holyoke, Massachusetts

Lead vocals - Morte McAdaver (Joshua Carrig)

Female vocals - Morgue Anne and Doll (Bonnie Miller)

Lead vocals on Brothel - Doll

Harsh vocals on Misbegotten Candy - Lilith Astaroth

Harsh vocals on Slaves to the Sleigh - Casey Jones and Lilith Astaroth

All guitars - Morte McAdaver

Additional bass - BJ Leperson (Benjamin Jon)

Misbegotten Candy guitar solo - BJ Leperson

Down in the Mire guitar solos - Pontius McRotten (David Hawkins)

Brothel guitar solos - Pontius McRotten and Morte McAdaver

Keyboard - Morte McAdaver

Drums - Thaddeus Podonkowitz (Wes Borque)

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Pandora's Toybox Northampton, Massachusetts

We're a zany, Cynical Circus crew from the shadowy carnival theme park known as Pandora's Toybox. We're here to expose the world for the bleak circus that it truly is.

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