A pack of howlers approaches from the east. I post a panicky Instagram. L-dog, with the help of a certain Spectator, deploys orange and yellow balloons left and right. The Spectator, unforgettable bystander, chooses to pass on test results. These are the same test results that, years later, you in Self mode outrode.

Genevieve, on uncertain froggy mornings, transmits the lute song of the Moth Wolf to children of survivors…

We land the THE on the far side of the trees. We thrash through brush into the compound. We collect Five Eddy Fawkes without so much as a peep.

We got Likes off the charts for that one.

Hear the sample’s clatter, the fast steel clap.

Ladies and gentlemen, in your Song Forms, I note a certain fidelity to Ethos 3, the growth hormone, activated by a dawn chorus of cows. Swap out the fog, refine the hexagonal ovarian cyst. It is possible, at night, to recharge via Ox Carrier Six. Five Eddy Fawkes says, "The eighth ambiguity, thorny to touch, is rooted in seven of mine.” Input ovarian pike‚ satisfy Sonica, let us relay Five Eddy Fawkes to OYO for THE treatment.