This is a song about "Cocunts"

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

You in your after life fitting in hell perfectly

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Wait a second..the souls still have fear,every hearse reverses.

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/