The mask is on 'em like a catholic service
And then bitch-slap her on purpose,
You've heard it as a myth, but this is a hype for curses
At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses
Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/
Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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