Once Upon A Coconut

Like Nesquik out da can

I think it, then I can

Need a guru, I'm the man

In supply I got demand

Need a sample mail it to you

I arrive like out the blue dude

Do you influence multitudes of groups?

Unusual

Every day all black

Just like I pull up to da funural

Respect; I keep it mutual

Interests and got intellect,

delicable like Ecuadorian

bananas in DeLorean

Or waffles with some syrup on it

Sir up in my stirrups: wanted

Not about the gossip

But it's possible I'll ponder on it

Somber I got calmer on em

Sub I put a collar on

I pull up in the suburbs in a suburban

And get my mother on,

For father's sake I put the cock in peacock

On my color guard

I call that comical

Scouts honor

I don't go to comicon

Unless I gotta talk about the robot that I roll up on

Or

Show up on the show I wrote

But no this ain't no 30 Rock

My references out of date

And my resources out of order

But for the record

I sort of shudder

When forced to watch that law and order show

I just don't SVU

Omg

I don't envy you,

I'd rather NV just to

EDC so you could see me

On TV or

In the booth

That would be cool

—da guru.

JOEL ZIMMERMAN wakes up to find three dead mice all lined up in a row; he is uneasy (despite his expression for the most part, remarkably unchanged) —as this is the sure sign of a nemesis.

It may even be SKRILLEX.

Immidiately he moves through the kitchen and past at least four SUPERMODELS and into the room Where he keeps his mau5 heads—

Each of them have been very specifically mutilated, besides one, kept—again—remarkably— intact. It seems to have been activated by a motion censor.

It relays a musical message, then explodes.

☠️ ☠️ ☠️

…yes,

this was definitely Skrillex.

But then—

Who really is Skrillex?

who really is anybody?

More philosophical questions.

It seems time for a long ride with some hot girls—

And, maybe—

A call to the old “friend”

{Enter The Multiverse}

DILLON FRANCIS is awaiting a very important call.

He should know something about this.

The phone isn't ringing yet, but it will.

DEADMAU5 crashes though the entire wall in an ARMORED SUPERCAR.

…or that.

— then the phone rings.

…it's JOEL.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Don't worry, I hate you.

Good, Jesus Christ.

I'm fucking the God version of you

in my half sleep

More like,

Dead on straight

Lovemaking

Of light proportions

But no problem

It is all just another portion of a program,

Another fierce projection of obsession—

So what?

I have four of 'em.

(I bore them,

And they all ignore me.)

I woke up this morning

After napping in New York

On a walkway between

Two okay casinos in Vegas

But don't know which ones

Or what it's called

Somewhere between the Encore

And the Fashion Show

I probably should get back, you know

I got a court date coming up

I'm on, New York

It's really what you wanted

Did I leave another Jim unattended from this show

Oh, of course

The Jim Crow Era!

Now that's relevant

And scary isn't isn't it?

I'm sober

But I told you, bro

The show is over

I gotta protect my sponsorship orders of

Coconut water

I work under informants

For

Nothing under the table

I'm so under toxic sonic torture

I've been disabled

I re-upped on all the pancake

But I'm out of maple syrup

So here's seven for the sixes;

I'm severing all connections,

I'm severely out of order

And I'm running out of water,

Look,

Call Mr. remarkable

And tell him I'm in a mark up

Had a hallmark card for Dillon's mother

But gave it a second thought and

Sent it as a thank you card for my aunt,

—The original sponsor;

And I should probably hawk or pawn the rock

But that would be a whole total disaster,

I fucking promise

I T S A N A M Y T H Y S T

So—

Enjoy the mix;

(It's a shit one)

It'll be a distant and short hiatus,

But either way, I gotta make

Electricity and rent

Without filling it with my purpose so,

I gotta cut the show off

I'm toppled over at the plaza

Laugh at it if you will,

But only if it's real

I wrote my will and posted it

I live and die inside this show

I came to the city to live

But it's just dying in New York

If you go broke and only does your art support you

— there's the notice;

Couldn't leave you cold

Just cause my heart is.

[The Festival Project ™]

The Complex Collective ©

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S

&

Tales of a Superstar DJ

Returns This Fall on All Platforms.

thanks for listening.

-Ū