This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Man i swear she's bad and she knows

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

See, most sites will give me three and a half

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Just seen another brother buried plus i knew him for years

See i'm breathing for a purpose

Cause america the terror of,

Oh, a taco joke, domo smoke, i heard

Of being of always getting wired

Beaches of normandy.

Let me rideuntil i get free

Looking for dangerously hot bitches and safe sex

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Inferior, but i'm nice

Of the book of your life