A Tale of Two Cities, starring My Chemical Romance. It was the best of times and the worst of October. In the year of our lord one thousand two thousand thirty-seven hundred thousand million and a half. And seven. The king and his jowls and the queen—thrones for boaf o’ them. All the groovy li’l chicks, licks, kicks! A procession of sad tattered monks, sawing wood in . . . Normandy. In love w/life, or what currently passes for it. Poof! Step down from the curb and perish. Resigned and reduced to fate, arithmetic. Musketeers and farmerettes—the death dance. Under the guidance of atonement, tongues ripped out with pincers, tumbrils snuffed, mire and revolution. Tumbrils hot-wired. Wet. Tongues a-go-go. Lord mayor of Squank City (a notorious G-spot Romeo). Tuppence. Daring daylight burglars. Wine! Farts in the cathedral. Then. Much later. Corks bob, the grass is grown. I want you, I need ya, I will meat you at 8: don’t be late. D’ya come yet? Dawn. “French” mustard. Sweetmeat hearts, breasts, mmm, my my mine. G-spot Juliets. The interchangeable intermingable. In death as in life, don’t forget the spandex. Better by far, far better. Said. Then. Well. The End.

My Chemical Romance plays Graceland at 6 p.m. Fri., April 11 with Taking Back Sunday, From Autumn to Ashes, and Recover. $13 adv. All ages.