This is a song about "Kaycee"

You in your after life fitting in hell perfectly

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

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/

As they juggle knives for a deadly purpose, entertaining service, recursive

Is low and is only get worsed you might as well be under a curses