This is a song about "Tish"

I'll imprison your loved ones in burning furnace

No not the heiress just one from an escort service

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

Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/

Now all i want is more my little pony toys to play wit

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