This is a song about "Pictionary"

Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/

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

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

My punch lines make you bleed internally,

I'm the kind of kid whose main purpose is to shake earth's surface

Dial up words but they're not in service