This is a song about "Mudic"

I'm hot like the backlash backdraft from sugar packets packed with anthrax

Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,

Dial up words but they're not in service

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

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

Sometimes my lyrics are hard to choose i'm like a women to shoes and purses,