This is a song about "Kiran"

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/

Except for the lower class, now what's their purpose?

Personally purchase the hearse, attend the service

So i refuse to follow in the same steps as my old man.

'cause it was an admired service-man