Make a mockery of myself;

wear smock to work

I don't talk too much no more

I just gossip somedays,

Dark on mondays;

The forgotten apostle

With just enough rope

To jump off and hope

It all stops, soon

The motocross and the terror stalkers

Just across from the starbucks at the Rock

–it got awkward

But God Loves me

Might start a talk show

Some chef, with a pop tart

A pop up club, a long night

Some broke shards of glass,

the yards of all the scars on stars and stripe

Feels like a long night–

Got coffee and tacos

A long talk with your blonde wife

To bypass the psycos

Right, though?

Bro, it's so over;

I won a whole asshole and a four leaf clover

In a game of poker

Now, brush your shoulders off

Brush your hair,

Pet the dog,

And kick the cat over and over

Till he turns back to a robot

“You're so gross.”

–don't i know it.

The whole world is over

–you jump first,

I'll follow

Lets keep talking

About the letters I penned

To the false Gods,

Painted them scarlett, of course

Scattered em from here

to Scarboro Fair,
I was right there,

then out of nowhere

a new nightmare

with nice hair

Here we go again

Lines out the door;

We got lines out the door

Out of Order

The world is at war

The whole world has run

Out of water

The four is the for

Theres no five

But the V for vendetta

Theres lines out the door

The whole world

Is a mom

And a daughter

My jokes get better,

The buildings look bigger

I pretend this seltzer is alcohol

Cause i want it

To make me forget

I've got all my–

Huh

There's a line out the door.

What if–

Me,

And all of your friends

And all of my

Wait, I don't have any friends

I'm getting a cat.

I was just thinking about Mila Kunis.

Oh yes, why's that?

SETH MCFARLENE

YEEEEE. YEEEEEEE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

WHAT, GODDAMMIT

GIGGITY!

OKAY, ASSHOLE

Eyes on eyes,

and tears on tears

All the years ive cried

On ears on ears

Why am I even here?

It's been too long, since i've been touched

I don't love love

but i dislike lust

I don't trust anyone

I don't have a number

I crawled up my arm,

Danced with the blood drawn

BLŪ wakes up famous.

[The world swirls into a plume of dark blue sky; BLŪ awakens suddenly from the blackness of a deep sleep in the middle of a road, a group of people, friends, swirling around her.]

YO.

What?

BLŪ.

What's up.

PARTY FOUL, BROH.

…

Billie Ellish?

Billie Pirate Ellish.

Uh.

That's why the rum–

Is gone.

What.

Guess i'm Jack Sparrow, now.

Hey wait–are you even legal?

Uh. I'm a mad fucking genius; are you legal?

I don't know.

Besides, this was your idea.

What–what?

Exactly. Get up.

Wtf is going on in this scene.

Idk i might a have to play the song again

Fuck that. I'm about to slit myfucking wrists.

HAVOC.

Where are we going?

You still got that NDA in your wallet?

I–yeah.

Then we're gucci.

“Waking up Famous”

I don't know exactly what happened.

[Looking in the mirror, confused.]

This is a nice leather jacket.

I wonder if i'm still Vegan.

Damn. I look mad rich.

BLŪ hurry UP!

[toilet flushes with foot]

Alright, I'm coming.

[Blu checks her pockets to find a wallet, the contents including numerous cards–metal ones, with copious amounts of cash, and pre-filled NDAs which have been folder neatly and stuffed into the corner pocket of the trifold wallet]

Billabong. Classy.

I'm never gonna finish that other project, am I?

Whatever.

Leave Fallon alone.

I did.

–it came back.

[The Festival Project.™]

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-Ū.