This is a song about "Pyaar"

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,

Writing line after line i never quit, finish the lyrics now its time to spit.

Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

You might collapse and take a nap for all of eternity