Welcome! Come in. Have a seat. No need to be shy.
I know, I know -- I look a fright. Care to know why?
I'm not used to wearing this skin.
It sags and is so terribly thin.
Not to mention
I've been here since 4 in the morning,
Plowing through the tedious and boring.
My wife is always preaching
On the verge of sobbing screeching,
"You're on track to a heart attack."
I should take a vacation,
but -- do you know the difference
Between a job and a vocation?
One is just work, the other a calling.
The type of thing
Where someone who loves to sing
Works as a waitress.
Anyway, I've reviewed your application.
Right off I thought,
"Hold the phone, don't change the station."
Let's get down to it.
No bullshit.
We need people like you.
No one else will do.
Come on. I'll show you the factory floor.
We've been in business, oh,
250 years or more.
Others have come before,
But few inclined
To spend their time
On pure horror.
We pride ourselves on producing
Since we began
Nothing less than
One hundred percent
dripping sweat terror,
many we were the first to invent.
Now over there
You'll see an assembly line
Putting together those brutes who stalk,
And even though they only walk
They're the ones
You can't outrun.
Decade after decade,
A hockey masked brigade
Marching a sleep killing parade --
We can't make 'em fast enough.
Hop in this cart,
and we'll continue
To the next part.
It's more than a few miles
between here and another
Division.
The company
Has grown annually
Since we opened shop,
And shows no sign
We're going to stop.
Already 234 miles square,
Every inch devoted to nightmare.
We make it top grade:
Zombies plucked from the grave,
Witches casting every hex,
Epic public fails at sex,
Dead loved ones return
To berate,
Dragging nerves
Across a rusty grate.
Haunted mansions,
Horrific dental sessions,
Oceans to drown in,
Overflowing trash bins,
Screams and adrenaline.
Know that sense
The dream might be real?
Thanks to Abraham von Ziehl,
We produce to please,
Shadow of the Sword
Of Damocles.
More potent than any other on the market.
Fall asleep in love, and awake broken hearted.
Now we'll start you off simple
Showing kids their parents
As corpses;
Attack them with
Cartoon horses;
And don't be afraid
To suggest
Improvements you feel
Should be expressed.
No one's going to take you out to the shed,
Beat you till you lose your head.
We can always use
New angles, new merchandize
To commercialize.
Doesn't have to be globally applicable,
Or overwhelmingly despicable.
A scare to whiten hair
Is all well and good,
But so long as it could
Cause a fright
You're doing it right.
Hell, while we're on such topics
Check out the classics.
People get to 85,
And still barely survive
The dreads instilled by schools
Which are among
Our most consistent tools.
To be honest,
I think the more real the better.
Sure, a knife wielding clown
Will get the bed wetter
Than a beloved granny's frown,
But one can last for days
While the other
Quickly fades.
Because it isn't just about the product
It's the customer.
Any age, him or her
That's who
We're here to serve.
And not everyone shares nightmares.
This is our 21st century branch,
Reminds me of an abandoned ranch.
So empty and devoid of company.
Vacant. Forsaken.
Alone with yourself --
The thought always
Leaves me shaken.
Over here we produce a delicious bacon
That induces uncontrollable puking.
That's the place we distill
Proof the world is bond for nuking.
That holds ever drill and grill.
Over there get your fill
Of every surreal affliction,
Some defying description --
Dali meets Saw,
Guaranteed
To drop and rip out your jaw.
This the auto pool,
But if I might advise
It would be wise
To do more than crashes.
Sure, they've got flashes,
Bells and whistles,
Splashes;
However,
Remember the ripples.
Top notch is what lingers.
Those are the quality
Spine tinglers.
Ah,
Here we are at last.
So
Am I correct
Or have you been miscast?
Please be direct.
I make mistakes,
am far from perfect.
Though I'm still certain
You'll make a good fit.
Worker or suit,
I always get something
From whom I recruit.
...welcome to the nightmare factory...
I know, I know -- I look a fright. Care to know why?
I'm not used to wearing this skin.
It sags and is so terribly thin.
Not to mention
I've been here since 4 in the morning,
Plowing through the tedious and boring.
My wife is always preaching
On the verge of sobbing screeching,
"You're on track to a heart attack."
I should take a vacation,
but -- do you know the difference
Between a job and a vocation?
One is just work, the other a calling.
The type of thing
Where someone who loves to sing
Works as a waitress.
Anyway, I've reviewed your application.
Right off I thought,
"Hold the phone, don't change the station."
Let's get down to it.
No bullshit.
We need people like you.
No one else will do.
Come on. I'll show you the factory floor.
We've been in business, oh,
250 years or more.
Others have come before,
But few inclined
To spend their time
On pure horror.
We pride ourselves on producing
Since we began
Nothing less than
One hundred percent
dripping sweat terror,
many we were the first to invent.
Now over there
You'll see an assembly line
Putting together those brutes who stalk,
And even though they only walk
They're the ones
You can't outrun.
Decade after decade,
A hockey masked brigade
Marching a sleep killing parade --
We can't make 'em fast enough.
Hop in this cart,
and we'll continue
To the next part.
It's more than a few miles
between here and another
Division.
The company
Has grown annually
Since we opened shop,
And shows no sign
We're going to stop.
Already 234 miles square,
Every inch devoted to nightmare.
We make it top grade:
Zombies plucked from the grave,
Witches casting every hex,
Epic public fails at sex,
Dead loved ones return
To berate,
Dragging nerves
Across a rusty grate.
Haunted mansions,
Horrific dental sessions,
Oceans to drown in,
Overflowing trash bins,
Screams and adrenaline.
Know that sense
The dream might be real?
Thanks to Abraham von Ziehl,
We produce to please,
Shadow of the Sword
Of Damocles.
More potent than any other on the market.
Fall asleep in love, and awake broken hearted.
Now we'll start you off simple
Showing kids their parents
As corpses;
Attack them with
Cartoon horses;
And don't be afraid
To suggest
Improvements you feel
Should be expressed.
No one's going to take you out to the shed,
Beat you till you lose your head.
We can always use
New angles, new merchandize
To commercialize.
Doesn't have to be globally applicable,
Or overwhelmingly despicable.
A scare to whiten hair
Is all well and good,
But so long as it could
Cause a fright
You're doing it right.
Hell, while we're on such topics
Check out the classics.
People get to 85,
And still barely survive
The dreads instilled by schools
Which are among
Our most consistent tools.
To be honest,
I think the more real the better.
Sure, a knife wielding clown
Will get the bed wetter
Than a beloved granny's frown,
But one can last for days
While the other
Quickly fades.
Because it isn't just about the product
It's the customer.
Any age, him or her
That's who
We're here to serve.
And not everyone shares nightmares.
This is our 21st century branch,
Reminds me of an abandoned ranch.
So empty and devoid of company.
Vacant. Forsaken.
Alone with yourself --
The thought always
Leaves me shaken.
Over here we produce a delicious bacon
That induces uncontrollable puking.
That's the place we distill
Proof the world is bond for nuking.
That holds ever drill and grill.
Over there get your fill
Of every surreal affliction,
Some defying description --
Dali meets Saw,
Guaranteed
To drop and rip out your jaw.
This the auto pool,
But if I might advise
It would be wise
To do more than crashes.
Sure, they've got flashes,
Bells and whistles,
Splashes;
However,
Remember the ripples.
Top notch is what lingers.
Those are the quality
Spine tinglers.
Ah,
Here we are at last.
So
Am I correct
Or have you been miscast?
Please be direct.
I make mistakes,
am far from perfect.
Though I'm still certain
You'll make a good fit.
Worker or suit,
I always get something
From whom I recruit.
...welcome to the nightmare factory...
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