This is a song about "Scintillation"

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

And i ain't never did a bid and i don't have a little kid

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

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

And god forbid i see a wizard and get a brain in my titanium cranium dog

Because of your bitchy immaculate cog turning counter clock, fuck your analog!