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,
No not the heiress just one from an escort service
Divided families and tore 'em up and saddened mothers,
At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses
Is low and is only get worsed you might as well be under a curses
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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