Stink Bomb Prom

by Young Satan In Love

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    Download the full album to see the Young Satan in Love Manifesto. Peer into the mind of the Dark Lord of Love. Follow along with our cryptically tight narrative! Heaven can wait!

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1.
02:05
2.
(free) 00:17
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4.
(free) 01:25
5.
03:46
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7.
03:10
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00:29
9.
02:10
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11.
(free) 00:43
12.
(free) 01:54
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14.
(free) 00:41
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(free) 01:09
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19.
03:09
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02:32
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(free) 01:25
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(free) 00:13
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27.

credits

released June 9, 2015

Songs recorded at Mack Brockton Landscaping and Light Carpentry by Dillon Anthony, produced by Young Satan in Love, mixed and mastered by Dan Tweedie.

Skits recorded, mixed, and produced by Mack Brockton (thanks to Pazuzu for input), mastered by Dan Tweedie.

The YSIL Players:

Young Satan // vocals, guitars
Hecubus // drums, vocals
Pazuzu // bass, vocals, keyboards, guitars
Lil' Leviathan // guitars, bass, vocals
Dab // vocals on tracks 1 and 19, hot guitar licks on track 19
420 BC // vocals on tracks 10, 13 and 15
The Kernel // vocals on track 13
Dan Tweedie // spirit animal, keys on track 3
I Ain't Worth a Dollar but I Feel Like a Dillionaire // lapsteel on track 9, half of the hot licks on track 27

Extended Family: Zebadaya, Desdemona, Fluffa, Clobber, Dr. Topholes Mephis, B.L. Zeebub, Milliscent the Innocent, Dusty the Dancer, Mayor McJeez, St. Peter, Mad Woman with the Poutine, Brookside Mall.

Thank Ewes: Nicole, Liz, Gill, Hazel, T.M Bois, Tanya, Heather, Penelope, Brydon, Luke, Angus, Dana, F.C., Brendan, Skinner, Guidge, Tim, Bondo, Hayden, Cam, Alex, Tate, Maggie, Aubrey, Tito, Trick, Indy, Zoey, Biscuit and all the volunteers who clobbered clowns over the years.

Words by Mack Brockton, Music by Young Satan in Love.
All songs Pakin Waki Publishing, 2015.

Use anything and everything for good or evil.

This is our gift to Earth.

Booking inquiries should be directed to bachelorettepartyband@gmail.com

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about

Young Satan In Love Fredericton, New Brunswick

A litmus test for devotion to strange notions. Puts your hands together, pulls them apart.

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Track Name: Phil Collins
Mediocrity is a noose these angels wear as a medal of honour.
(Your brain's too full).
Track Name: Meet me by the Minibar
Here's the keys to my room. Meet me by the minibar.
Here's the, ah…here's the keys to my room. Meet me by the minibar.
Roguish whisper.
Track Name: Young Satan in Love
Hecubus:
Satan, as an angel you've got wings, but you can't sustain the mood.
When it comes to commitment, dude, you have a devilish attitude.
Satan:
Yeah, I know I'm the gimp in a parade of lock step chimps
And if you're looking for a fleet-footed flight risk, I'm super pimp.
Hecubus:
Supposing as a lad you had a bad burn in love
And now you've set your heart to spurnin' the churnin' grace from above.
Satan:
Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Hecubus, I fall in love twenty times a day.
Now check out the cherrubas (Hecubus interjects: Ooolala!) coming our way and think of something to say!
Hecubus:
Something like this?
Hecubus and Satan:
[many “Doodoodoos”]
Satan:
I hit the Oracle up for an answer. She demurs and defers to a dancer.
Inside the booth the dancer whispers something about the truth of would I just do one thing:
Love her long and soft until she's infirm. That makes me squirm because firm is how I feel tonight.
As I become:
Young Satan in love? Young Satan in love? Young Satan in love? Young Satan in love?
(Hecubus and Satan in perfect teen-angel harmony)
Young Satan in love! Young Satan in love! Young Satan in looooooooooove!
Hecubus and Satan:
[many “Doodoodoos]
Track Name: Chubbina
We're going to shave down the cat and fly low over Chubbina, where the sun burns fat and the bed rocks slow la matina.
If we play our cards right with the set up of lights in the spare room, we might take off quite soon while our love's still in bloom and delay our doom.

I'm in an ocean of debt, it's a mess, I'm depressed and can't buck it. Why don't we flee to the South on the credit that’s left and say “Fuck it! I don't give a shit.”
We'll go bananas in the sun, me playing a uke[lele], you hot saucing the buns,
Because I just want to play with you.

Loving you is the hardest task I have ever set myself to - not so much the loving itself but keeping all the loving to you.
Pull on your tightest bikini greens, I'll wear my loosest No Excuses jeans.
This vision must be re-enacted in sand untouched by honkies, save for us, you hunderstand.

And if I were that sand windwipped across you lusciously buff hips, I would love that land with my little sand hands and my rough lips.
My rough lips.
Track Name: Short Bus
Shorty stuff on the morning bus.
Exact change and B.O., 60 foot loser limo.
Short stuff on the morning bus.
I’ve got an important job here but all I care about is girls and beer.
Short stuff on the morning bus.

I’d like to take you to Speedbumps for Karaoke, off-porch tokes, and “My ding-a-ling”.
For you my ding-a-ling rings ever bluely, and it sounds like this:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

You don’t call at all. That’s better than calling all the time.
Short stuff on the morning…
Bused in smile for the horning.
These goons is soooo boring, string’em up and sell hot dogs all afternoon.
And should we swing in the evening afore necking I swear it’ll be too soon.
Babababababababoon.
Track Name: Feels Good
Ask you why you reject me, and you say, “It feels good.”
And why you don’t call, you say “It feels good”.
I offered you a lift, and you kicked me in the gift because
It feels good. It feels good. It feels good.

We’re going to play a game now: I’m going to ask you about some of the things you do and I want you to tell me how they make you feel:
Being the penis pump for inflatable fools…feels good.
Bitch slapping your broken family jewels…feels good.
Riding the rails to align molten power…feels good.
Misting my mood in a fine golden shower…feels good.
Uploading footage sure to make me cry…feels good.
Staring into your palm as you wave goodbye.

It feels good. It feels good. It feels good.
Track Name: Who's Zoomin' Who?
Who's zooming who? Ain't nobody told you?
Track Name: The Kernel's Secret Recipe
Going broke, gonna die of a stroke – or, better yet, vegetate in debt?
Well, with a Soda Pop Can Solar Frying Pan I’m gonna sauté away worries on demand!

Frizzy hair muscle shirt debonair hundredaire come to cure your cares.
In a target market of ganga gardenaires in their backwoods basement ganga garden lairs.

Gotta guy on James Ready standby draining cans in two trembling hands, a Newtonian marvel of bartender at rest drinking with his only paying guest.

Then there’s me and 420 BC and the Colenel cooking up the plans,
Filling out our leave forms in advance of the backwoods basement ganga garden grants.

Discreet and powerless, no more tell tale hydro bills in excess. So grow the best and fuck the stress.

Grow high test and fuck the stress.
Track Name: Bibles for Missions
Bibles for Missons
Step to the cash with jeans that cost six bucks.
They charge you two, you know that hardly sucks at
Bibles for Missions.

Doppleganger Godzilla, what a find!
Please fix my Elvis, his pelvis needs a wind.
Blowing quarters like a rich man on a spree,
Oral Roberts, Lawrence Welk and me at
Bibles for Missons.
Track Name: This Time Around Bachelorette Party Band
When the vision of ye ole dance pole comes a’ glistenin’ through my wishes for you,
And I dream of all the various sweet positions you could hold in my caucus.
Now I hear you’re with this handy man pillow talkin’ – yeah, you’re realin’ him in.
I can’t help but shed my eye toke tears and wish you well. Dude’s sealed his doom and tonight you have four new bridegrooms. Yeah, tonight the slickest love blooms.

We are This Time Around Bachelorette Party Band.
Fast love in a can
And we can do a lot for you
Whatever you want us to.

Yeah, I know you’ve lived with doubts,
Dated a load of louts sucking you like a bong
But it ain’t settling just ‘cause this one’s a goof –
Girl, he loves you, and you’re both getting on.
Besides, that’s tomorrow and tonight your friends have paid handsomely
For the way furthest gone
Buff cherubs to take your cares away in one last romp in the hay.


Dude sealed his doom and tonight you’ve got five new bridegrooms.
Yeah, tonight the slickest love zooms.

We are This Time Around Bachelorette Party Band.
Fast love in a can
And we can do a lot for you
Whatever you want us to.

Have you ever had a man jump out of a cake for you?
Have you ever had a man jump out of a cake for you?

Hallelujuh! A lil’ Dab El-Dooya!

Now you’ve had a man jump out of a cake for you.
Track Name: Dab El-Dooya
Do you take this cake-baked angel to be your hot flash in the pan,
To sizzle and drizzle with hot sauce ‘til golden, and serviced where he stands?

I know my girlfriends don’t want me to marry you,
And I am well aware of what your dad might do.
But when you pass, oh how my pantin’ gives a start.
Only it’s not just my pants, girl, it’s my heart.
Oh yeah!

I want to marry you under the kitchen table.
I want to marry you in your dad’s favourite chair.
Exchanging vows, pulling each other’s hair,
Bring a friend along, girl, I don’t care.

Truthfully, lovey, I don’t think about much else.
I’m just the marrying kind, can’t help myself.
You’re just the bride to ride the rising tide
High enough to burst my love dyke open wide.

Say the word and it’s done.
No need to tell anyone.
Quick now, how do you spell fun?
(Satan and Hecubus: “M-a-r-r-i-e-d”)
The world’s problems are staged,
The powerless are enraged.
I hear our names being paged
But we’re heavily engaged.
Engaged!
Track Name: Clobber the Clown
Tear down that puffed up clown,
A living projection of all that's held you down.
Lept from your heart for this crucial round.
Kick him so hard that his head hits the ground.

What is Clobber saying to you?
Do you believe him now that he's outside?
Do you want him to come back inside?
So what are you going to do?
Do to Clobber?
Clobber the clown.
And, uh…

Kick him so hard that his head hits the ground.
Tear down that puffed up clown.
Track Name: Fluffa
What do you do with a Fluffa like that?
Track Name: Stink Bomb Prom
This pool has plenty of fish. Jump in and compete for a tasty dish and you just might get your wish: a trophy you can mount with sweet relish.
“If you’re looking for a hookup, please pass. Anything else you think of, please ask.” So I’m asking: what sort of half ass moon’s their way for a long hall pass?

I know you’re busy, this won’t take long: would you come to the prom with me, Stink bomb?
So we could gas the night away?

Mash potato our way to the bar watch the teddy boys spar with the morning star
Slip past into the lavatoir where cherubas fret at the sight of
Too late, too late, smoke wafts from the bathroom grate.
PU, date! PU, date! Good things come to those who wait

It’s a Stink bomb Prom!
Satan’s gonna ahem, your mom!


Yes, I know that I’m not normal
And you’re boring as hell,
Yet still I’d probably do you
As you’ve caused myself to swell.
Ooo, ooohooohooohooo oohoohoo hoo.
Track Name: Leroy Leaves me Breathless
Exquisite taste and all the right friends,
Leroy leaves me breathless.
Fuck all this wasted effort to make amends.
Leroy leaves me breathless.

On the proceeds, buy yourself a carton,
Call the boys up and dart on down.
Make’em all laugh smoking through your payhole.
When you guffaw, your eyes turn into slits
Like an old Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-da.

On the proceeds, buy yourself a carton,
Fill the boys up and stubble down.
When you guffaw, your eyes become my chainsaws
Through the old growth to get a clear view
Of the way back.
Smoke ‘til your through. It’s all you can do.