This is a song about "Bobfoc"

Dial up words but they're not in service

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

I'll imprison your loved ones in burning furnace

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/