This is a song about "Tarr"

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

No not the heiress just one from an escort service

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

Say goodbye to my gpa, but still i got time so i can't quit/

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