Look at your miko, now back to me, now back to your miko,
now back to me. Sadly, she isn't me, but if she stopped using Shinto-scented bodywash and switched to Old Spiceravana, she could at least smell like she's me.
Look down. Look up. Where are you? You're on a
flying boat, with the girl your girl could smell like.
What's in your hand? Back at me. I have it! It's a pagoda, containing two lasers with that curve you hate.
Look again. The lasers are now
JUSTICE!
Anything is possible when your worshipper smells like Old Spiceravana and not a miko.
I'm on a mouse.