City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in sinfuldeeds married. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with sinfuldeeds married,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“sinfuldeeds married, sinfuldeeds married, sinfuldeeds married!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “sinfuldeeds married” down on the streets fifty stories below.