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