This is a song about "Fathe"

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/

I'm the kind of kid whose main purpose is to shake earth's surface

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

Dial up words but they're not in service

And then bitch-slap her on purpose,