GHOST MODE.

GOING COASTAL (EP) Track 03. - GHOST MODE V5 (Instrumentsl Only) Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū High reaching, but with limited power— This, is The Chemical Climax. I could never know what episode of The Tonight Show it was, or if it was even the tonight show at all— some sort of special broadcast, the grand stage was set to look large, and backlit with pink and blue, just as the festival lights had been before. Now, some years passed, and calling attention to the fragile and vulnerable mind state I might have been in, which seemed like normal—and though everything around was bizzare and out of place, nothing actually quite normal, now taking a closer look from the outside—of perhaps when, and how I had died. Hunger strikes before dusk at dawn; You could have this mansion for a fraction of the price First of all, No disrespect, body— But I'm mad hungry. You're looking good as fuck and all But i'm dumb tired. Like, dumb, dumb tired bro. The Apparently, Fallon was mad. He looks mad. Let him, then. I left alone what all I could And collected my thoughts To paint an art, Songrief stricken and tragic As to have happened Onesidedly, As you see Screens are as creatures Never thought to have eyes or minds Alike ours, besides the stready ways we have grown cold to the unknown, Of other forms, beyond our control Intelligence, though thought to be artificial A far kind —not ours. So you think, You were never wasted a day in your life. Try this on: I've been day drinking And night drinking, And day drinking And night drinking And going on Nevermind, I'm out cold. Meanwhile, As I've shifted not into dreams, But in waking world, Forgotten to have keyed in A relief to this fixture, I haven't more called Wasted, Than meaning Sleepless, but not awake Drunken, But on no Mercy Did you want that now, or later? I'll take it now, with my tea. Thank you, Sir. Cut it out. You'll wake him. I wish I could draw That thing that I saw That you are And probably Also I am But darker, Much darker And less— Animated. —shit, —fuck! —Gosh. Who are you?! Who aren't I, once called upon?! Christ! If you'd like— But I'm not doing any time Wandering about Preaching, And this time, Rather I'd take my own life Suddenly I've fallen ill and must be Infrequently Gone and meditating Somewhere throughout the galaxies Come on, I feel like I'm doing a lot here. Can it, Letterman— We'll get back on that plot line as it happens. “As it happened” What have you. I'm in past-tense You're in future— And I'm still Halfwitted. Right. So now would be the time. Well, it is witching hour, but backwards. Backwards, backwards! See, I told you it was Google fucking with me directly. I figured that out earlier in the day already. Do you think that's because I don't find Indian men sexually attractive? I don't find anything brown sexually attractive. Alright, we're at a draw, then—it's settled. Preferences set. I told you already, race mixing becomes important exactly for this simple reason, anyway— Any person of a darker skinned complexion should find something Caucasian leaning to mate with— And vice versa— It's an energy crisis, for gods sake anyway— Which means Anything leaning too far in one direction of the spectrum Or another Are going to be Facing some type of issues having to do with it! —and as beautiful as your black is— Or as pretty as your blue eyes might be The evolution of the human species Is dependent on these variations To create genetic perfection The ascended are seeking Now if you'll very kindly— Aye aye, captain Find whatever creature has been masquerading as this Jimmy Fallon character clouding my judgement And kill him Before whatever the actual Fallon is Gets caught in the crosshairs, Or I do. (Oh, I do.) Now, very kindly Google, Stop wasting everybody's time. So you're telling these hackers have been masquerading as an evil diety in order to what exactly? Control time. That's why you're under evaluation. What. You expect me to believe That coincidentally Every time I play with my own pussy, That the traffic outside of my bedroom just Magically goes wild? —what did you—? Quiet! It's not a coincidence— It's not magic. It's computer coding. Texhnology. Science. —is that what's been happening to Jimmy—? Shut up. Apparently, something happened to Jimmy Fallon. Give up Fallon. They're going to kill you for this! That's fine, I've been waiting to die, anyway. Give up, Fallon. Something did happen to Jimmy Fallon, anyway. What is it? Money. I didn't sign up for this! Oh, did you not? I did not! This girl— She's in her 30's— This woman is just— —have you seen this? She's just obsessed with me! Woah, buddy. Woah is right. You picked Fallon on the wrong day. What?! Seriously. You're getting it wrong. I didn't pick Fallon! Did you not? NO! I was just fasting and it came to me like that. Seriously, you're gonna need this. For what. You'll see. Listen, you fucking idiot. Nobody “signs up” for the festival project. They don't?! No. You're just “in” it. Well, how do you get in it? You would want to know. Okay Jesus, what exactly are you saying I'm saying, just let me handle this. I feel that'd be wise, at this point. Hey, it's Jimmy Fallon. SHUT UP, HO. it is though. GO AWAY, SATAN. Jeez, you're so sure it's the devil. Trust me, you'll know it's Satan by the way he !!!! (Or she) —yikes. …handles herself. JESUS CHRIST! I'M BUSY. WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU WANT? Oh, this is perfect. Insert that scene here where TINA FEY YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL TO BE ON SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE?! JIMMY FALLON (Shrugs). yes, I did! TINA FEY Idiot! [She smacks him with a rolled up newspaper] JIMMY FALLON ow! What did you do for it? TINA FEY I took a knife! ___ I also did that once. JIMMY FALLON —I also considered doing that. Great. What did you do to Jimmy Fallon?! NOTHING! —are you sure?! —ARE YOU SERIOUS?! What did you do that man?! Nothing. Stop it. You're lying. —I just prayed for him, is all. Jesus Christ. He was an influential supplement in making the decision to do so, yes. Well, where is he now? Who, Jesus!? No— Wait— —Jimmy Fallon— You know where Jesus is? On occasion. Perhaps. Let's look at it this way— How would you feel if something wrote something like this about you. Awful. See. Especially if it was true— And I was an asshole. Well, now that you put it that way. I didn't. But let's turn it around and say, hey— Your career could use some embellishments. MEANWHILE, at TITS. A girl jumps out of a frosted cake with streamer tassel pasties and delivers champagne into the VIP section. (Spinning the tassels) What do you call these?! —embellishments. He tips her gratuitously. CUT BACK TO Then I'd say I'm the hero in this one. I'd say— you're still not— Because technically, as it's written— Jesus is technically still —our lord and savior— (In the script) In this year of the lord, Anno Domini! Whatever, shut up. Then you've still got, supacree, or whatever Skrillex Thor— Peter Parker, Hey Spider-Man. What's good. All these guys over here. Who are you again. Shut up! The worldenderz. Suh. The incredibles, The Incredible Hulk, which— by the way YO, what in the FUCK. MARK RUFFALO— you look— ROUGH. I've been waiting like half a century for these sides! Is your chest hair greying?! I would call it more like, a salt and pepper sort of. I like it. Really? It looks nice. You think so? Definitely, silver foxy, kind of. Hm. Yeah. I'm glad you like it forsure. Anyway— Matches the hair— HEY. Woah, woah. Do you know how long it's been since breaking the fourth wall?! Like, forever? I don't know. YEAH. Like FOREVER. SERIOUSLY. Well, how and why the hell am I supposed to care. Because you wrote it! Yeah, but— But WHAT?! Now I work at the Equinox! What the fuck! Hey, come on man. The job's got perks. “PERKS” Fuck yeah, man. I just met Mark Ruffalo! You've gotta be kidding me. Kinda kidding, at least—-addressing you in third person like that. Come on, nub-nub. that's it! You're coming with me! Ayigh! Watch it, okay?! I gotta return these uniforms for a fee. Jesus Christ. I don't think he's coming anymore, maybe. He's procrastinating. So I can pretty much garantee you anything, That the algorithm is going to keep acting this way, Until you GET RID OF EVERYTHING. I'm not doing that, actually, no. Where is he?! Oh what! You actually really thought I was gonna go— —Shut up! —for Jimmy Fallon over a million dollars— Cause the Illuminati asked me to?! Thought you might at least. One million dollars is not that much money. It's more than I got— Had— Had at the time. Look, this Jimmy Fallon dude— Just give him whatever the fuck he wants. What does he want! Find out, then give it to him. I can't keep wasting my time on these idiots. now? Now, would be a good time, David Letterman. Great. Good. CUT TO COMMERCIAL! Just—make sure you get a really good shot of my buttocks, okay? This has been marginalized and highly underrated as simply “fanfare” “Fan fiction” I think. But i find it to be fascinating. Tell me again, what is your name? Satan. It's—what? Satan. S—say that again? [breaking fourth wall, gripping the microphone] My name is Satan. OKAY. That's. CUT DIRECTLY TO: GIVE ME THE PANTS! NO! THE PANTS ARE FOR ME! SACK EM! SACK EM. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, MAN THEYRE MY SIZE ANYWAY— [BLEEP] OUT OF HERE, CONAN, THESE PANTS WONT EVEN FIT YOU. THESE ARE MY PANTS. After winning a challenge, JIMMY FALLON's strange and erratic behavior after being given the authority to dictate rules within the house as a reward for said challenge, leads the other hosts as his housemates to rally against him in order to force him out of the house, as his seemingly sudden-onset attitude and cruel remarks and gestures have become unacceptable and offensive, not to mention. Stay over here, Noah. What do you mean, why? You, too Arsenio. What! What do you mean? You can't come over here. [he crosses the section off with a chair] What. Stay over there. Why. [beat] Apartheid. [jaw drops entirely] (Camera zooms in on super shocked face) FALLON :) lol that is so out of bounds. Whatever, the world is out of bounds. Literally, where did it go? Supacree Huh? Oh, I moved it. Why!? LOOKING FOR THIS?! No. Ah, seriously!? Come on. Be cool, Seth Meyers. It's just a game anyway. SETH MEYERS HUH HUH. Fuck that. I said no to everything, No, No to everything. I don't want anything to do with this. Whatever, already— it's called peacemaking, get over yourself. MEANWHILE, the DJS I FOUND A PEACEMAKER! *brrrrrrassaastttttttsssssssthrhth* Nice. I love this map. Dang, I gotta go get The Devil out of this guy. So, by now it ought to be Skrillex, right? Why is he levitating…? Whatever, call an exorcist. Nice pajamas, asshole. I'm still waiting on your mom's dry cleaning. Watch it. Hmmm. Purple, purple, purple— Hmmm… What's this? You keep files of these things? I keep files of everything. Weird. It's not. I thought everyone keeps filings of their purples. Uh— they don't. They should. What's this? I could make use of your microexpression frequency. Go ahead. Mark your calendars, boys. Ahem. And—whatever you are. Tanking. Damn, dog— You have got to get off my throat. Give a shot elsewhere. Try, NO! Have you tried operating a new body lately? It gets difficult, Especially when she keeps —changing it. Thank God. I thought you'd never find us. Just keep backpedaling. Oh god, don't start this again. Are you playing Places with these idiots? Kind of. Why?! We already started cosmic alchemy again— and the fame game— Everybody's playing the fame game! Then there's 8-dimensional poker. Hey again. You're a lame alien. ObligedZ. —then you called Caskets. CASKETS. Dammit. Then— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.