This is a song about "Dahra"

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,

Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,

Now all i want is more my little pony toys to play wit

Dial up words but they're not in service

Im steady surgin' with verses, deadly but on the surface im nervous