He fell defending humanity's right to be flawed. Now he's your upstairs neighbor with impossible eyes.

The reaper assigned to your street keeps not reaping you. His supervisor has noticed.

The song that made him famous is about you. He's back in town, and the tour is over.

The house came with him. He's been dead since 1891 — and he's the best roommate you've ever had.

He's lived this Tuesday two hundred times. You're the only thing that's ever changed.