This is a song about "Tyrion"

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

And then bitch-slap her on purpose,

Is low and is only get worsed you might as well be under a curses

As they juggle knives for a deadly purpose, entertaining service, recursive

But now its whatever, knowing your the batter of another man that matters,

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