You're going to need something to hold onto,

Wanderer,

You old man, you old dog

[Knowing]

Gnawing on a ham sandwich

Half gone,

And half past disaster,

Mark 9—

All new time zone,

Get lost, before I bother you.

Looking backwards in time at the weakness I've had

Or the week

Or the month,

Or the year—

Fuck the mothballs in the closer

Over motorcycles, or you wanted to know

Where the hole in my heart was,

When I'm sure you're the one who bit it off.

Goddammit dude!

“The Worst Shapeshifter in History”

What the fuck, man!

What.

You sold your soul to be on Saturday Night Live?!

What else was I gonna do with it?

Ah, Gee—nothin' I guess!

I could be luckier I guess

To have gotten what I wanted

Waking up in a warm music studio

I could never call home

Without someone to love in it,

Or roll over onto,

What's a revolving door for a prophet :

Word to my Nothing and NoOne

Get away from me

All the demons you throw out

Come back to you

Redefining beauty in the age of faux vanity

Atrocities everlasting,

And atrocity exhibition,

—a aphantom on the train tracks.

An epiphany.

—Atrophy.

c o l o r s ft. Uptown A

& Happy Accidents

-Ū.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

…If you haven't seen him at his worst…

WHERE'S MY SHIT?!

…yo…you are so evil…

[*breaks everything*]

…Then you don't deserve him at his best.

Wake up in a wet bed,

sweat pouring

engine strikes

Disaster, roaring

Ranting, raving,,

Lunatics, icons

Ione, eye color

No warning:

I want you

Adonis

New Adonis

I got something for you;

It's got four doors,
I know you can't afford it,

Come on,

Only one offer

Come on,

You know I want you

What I want a car in New York for?

Even the scorecard,

Cork off the bottle, huh?

Go figure.

I got sharp numbers,

No harm no foul ball;

Still stick in the Capstone,

There's a sandstorm

On the first montage.

Pitch up,

With the fever pitch

With the fever pitch

downstroke

UP

Pitch down

With the force

With the force

Or

What have you

Play ball,

No–

playfair

Payboy model

Wayfair value

Strict non-orders

Foreigner syndrome

Alcohol bottle

Palindrome, Astronomy

No, Farquad

Noah's Ark and all

Going door to door,

the doctor

Doing more and more

The Talk show host

Losing more the Mortimer,

Call it

Losing more,

The Watchamacalit,

Chocolate bar,

So far,

Hard to forget

No,

Hard Ball,

Soft pitch—

Watch this:

THE COSMIC AVENGER

(V.O)

I cannot resist a chocolate cake!

Huh.

Seriously, I'm telling you.

*sniffs*

hm.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Yo, i'm telling you: she's spot on.

Like, scary accurate.

Precise. Always right. Even on Tuesdays.

Why would it matter if it's Tuesday or not?

Most Psychics are wrong on Tuesdays.

Really.

You didn't know about this?

Never heard that.

Most of them.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

BOOOOOB.

Huh. What,

TIME FOR WORK.

BOOOOB THE BUILDER!

Ugh.

CAN HE FIX IT?!

[freeze]

VO

depends! Has he had his morning coffee yet?

[out of coffee]

Uh…

VO

Has be been heavily drinking the night before

[Bob winces Nautiously with every swing of his hammer]

Uggggh.

VO

Does he have AIDS?

what.

You have AIDS.

How could I have contracted HIV!?

It surpassed HIV; it's already AIDS!

WHAT! this is Inpossible!

It's not impossible; I did the bloodwork myself.

I mean—

Bob

This can't be happening.

I'm sorry.

I've been completely faithful to my wife!

…really?

Yes!

[beat]

Now, Robert…

Don't call me Roberr, my name is BOB, GODDAMMIT.

Calm down..

I will not calm down; you just told me I have HIV.

AIDS.

How could I have AIDS?! Imm a construction worker!

“Bob The Builder”

{IRL}

In this live action rendition of Bob the builder, Bob realizes that after after purchasing after market power tools, he has been infected with HIV

Actually, its AIDS.

Here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

CUT TO:

SOUTH PARK, CO. OFFICE. DAY.

You wouldn't know this is Butters just by looking at him— an above average looking (read: almost too handsome) middle aged man, now, looking rather sad and despondent, as he fiddles with his Rubix cube over a cold supper (leftovers, of course), still singing his same old song.

Loolooloo…

However— Almost singing with a deep and heavy sigh, the inward aspiration to do and be more.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

PATRICK wakes up face down in a racquetball court, ears first, then eyes as he looks about his surroundings, a racquet still in his hands, and —VICTOR playing wallball with himself, just near enough to Patrick that it's dangerous.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

It had been days since I'd written anything, really.

I was technically ahead of schedule— of course, That was, technically— and besides the delay of one single, I was on some sort of roll—the day-by-day releasing of my fast tracked work seemed to be doing some sort of offset to the algorithm; I knew this was something not everyone was doing, or anyone, really, that I knew of—and in this way, it was rather strategic. Besides, anyway, the obvious— my subscription for distribution was ending, and although it had been a voluminous year as far as music catalogues were concerned, some of my best work surfacing actually after I_NY, which itself had created a surge of followers on what seemed like a freak occurrence of one song—the final track, for whatever reason— being streamed just under a thousand times without it having been showcased or promoted in any way—

; and that was just it— it was, or at least, did seem random, anyway, on the off chance.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

WHO is responsible for this?

Nobody moves a muscle, not an inch. Not even wince or a blink, not a breath at all in the room, until—

SETH MEYERS let's out a deeply exasperated sigh of concern and beffudlement.

{Enter The Multiverse}

CUT TO:

Alright, where is it?

GODDAMIT! What is it with you people!

What people? I'm not people.

—and why does everyone secretly smoke?

Oh come on. It's common knowledge.

What's “common knowledge”?

Where is it?

You are redundant!

And you, are about to be decapitated.

By whom, might I ask?

The Network.

Great.

“To Cut Ties”

Well…

The man hanging from a singular kite in what appears to be midair with nothing and no one around in sight across a clear blue sky lets out a light sigh, as if to say..:

[nothing]

There's really nothing that can be done about this.

Seth?

Red tape. Red tape everywhere!

Well, it's settled then. I'll just—

Go ahead, right this way.

Who is THIS?

I own The Network.

No you don't!

You know—you're right. I am the network.

Ah, Christ, we gotta get out of here.

Correct.

Where's Fallon?

I—

Dead.

What!

Finally.

Or presumed missing.

What:

Go figure.

Which is it.

One of the two, and either way.

—fff.

We're boned.

Definitely.

Ah, Christ.

You gotta see this.

What is it.

Haven't figured it out yet.

What's it look like.

Something.

Something, eh?

Yes, indeed.

Well, not nothing.

Not nothing.

TINA FEYA is a special detective at the head of an elite task force designed to investigate distinctly extraordinary cases; the detective takes a long draw from a cigarette

Ew, barf. I'm not doing that.

No, your character is doing it.

I don't think so.

Don't think so. Do so.

No, no—see;

I don't think my character would smoke.

Why?

Because she has my name, and I don't smoke!

CUT TO:

Quadadimentional TINA FEY shoots pool and tosses back cold glass bottles of craft beer.

::||PAUSE.

IV—

Oh, I get it.

Now you understand.

I understand we can't be in the same room together.

Why is thi—

I will kill you.

CUT TO:

AREA 51. HOLDING CELL. DAY

Ooh. Is this the part where?

Yeus.

Oof.

Yeus.

Alright, get in here.

No, Wait—

No, no.

Get comfortable.

With what?

Your new cellmate.

Don't tell me it's.

CUT TO:

I TOLD YOU. I'M NOT DOIN THE TONIGHT SHOW.

YOU'RE DOIN THE TONIGHT SHOW— YOU KNOW WHY?

WHY?!

BECAUSE I SAID SO.

Oh, well, since you said so.

Really?

fuck no. Move.

GIVE ME BACK MY BODY, YOU FIEND.

I WILL —*sniffs*—NOT,

You're rUinInG it!!!

I'm making improvements.

yooooooooooouuuuuuu—

CUT BACK TO.

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

IV.

-Ū. ft. Happy Accidents & -Ū.

Melted my face.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

C U L T (V5) - Single

Uptown A ft. Happy Accidents & -Ū.

Broken Headphones ftw.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Remember my imaginary friend RiffRaff?

Wasn't it a dragon

I think so.

Huh.

Turns out it's a rapper.

That's… interesting.

Even more odd: look at this.

Don't scroll anymore.

That is…fantastic.

{Enter The Multiverse}

It fees too close to home;

I took the scenic route.

God knows I don't belong here—

I don't want to harm you

It hits too close to home

I have to play the part

You just don't know the half of it

You just don't know the art

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

That's enough

And it always was

But the truth of the matter was,

Someone asked for it

I was doing nothing

But living my own world

Until who came along

And on the assumption that three man told me to run,

I run along

Now take that hound out to the back and shoot it

*fucks off and dies*

Take that horse right back to the barn and burn it down

(i almost left the horse in the barn)

Now take this damn hole out of my heart,

Or just eat it out

Or let me bleed

Or tear me to shreds

If all I need are some meds,

Recommend the right color preference

Another African American

For reference

Or whatever

I'll get better quick with a mask on

Just get to feeling suicidal besides my peloton before I ride on

And just remember— that everyone out there

Is everyone out there

And everyone out there is on something.

It's a cold fucked up world

and New York is the stone where the heart should be

It's a cold fucked up world

And New York is a Puddle full of vomit

For the icing on the cake

That never happened

Cause it don't make sense

To buy an easy bake oven

Living in a homeless shelter

With absolutely no

Potable drinking water

Earn your heart ducts

Or just duck tape them wall closed

And work at the Walmart

And sleep with the roaches

And snitch on the rat

And tie up the snitches with stitches

And tie them to the train tracks

Don't redact Billie the kid if you're infinite

and just remember,

The love left

But I didn't

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.