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