This is a song about "Bestfeiend"

Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,

Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

Except for the lower class, now what's their purpose?

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Is low and is only get worsed you might as well be under a curses