This is a song about "Rehearses"

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Lines naturally come out of my mind,and end up looking like bad cursive.

Time sits still yet to depression i am consigned

Master of homicide crimes, but never once fined

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,