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/
Should know opportunity's a bitch you often see with the rich,
Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,
I'll imprison your loved ones in burning furnace
Personally purchase the hearse, attend the service
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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