This is a song about "Guit"

I'm hot like the backlash backdraft from sugar packets packed with anthrax

Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,

Lines naturally come out of my mind,and end up looking like bad cursive.

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Dial up words but they're not in service

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