of a very limited type

Of a Very Limited Type

I had an epiphany one day. I wanted to do my life

struck by the intensity of the scenes that put together

birds flying. Fuck it. We're not putting on our masks

and the writers settled on two options: a monkey and

whatever remaining authority he had. As

a stylist had grown bored at the last second with his work,

the men, who ultimately have no choice in the matter,

asked if he can accept full responsibility for what went

covered in blood dripping down from the crown

and I’m wearing underwear that goes up to about there.