This is a song about "Wills washing machines"

Boy, i’m doin’ my damn thing

Sniffing his dirty washing!

Washing these holy lands in their heathen blood,

You wasn't fin' to dress all crazy no more and

All the while you're washing up on the shores of my clarity

If we thinking success is only measured by your money

You see they way out they minds with no return ticket

Washing dishes as a kid and maybe getting a tip.

I got my wife, so fuck the ring

Washing dishes and polar bear splitting

Of how they keep you still and down, convert people to machines

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

Ain't tryin to be your god, just want to live my dreams

No one stopping this elite team of dangerous machines

We all dream one day we be kings and queens

Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.