This is a song about "Intership"

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,

Bow your heads-i see the lines of my beaten artist hearses.

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