[Verse 1]

I'm an impostor... of what, I don't know

I feel like a monster... evil I won't show because I call myself being cute to academics and macadamias

They both probably think I'm a bozo

Can't escape the word "pretentious"

I heard it mentioned, and I scoffed

I hate when words live on a buzz... all the sobering ones end up lost

I think about the word "discouraged", and I'm reminded this is a half-court shot in the dark, and I'm blinded

It's more like full-court, but fools sport optimism that they did not earn

This cynicism got learned

98% of my discography is nocturnes

Tried to cremate hopelessness, it would not burn

I can't just usher in a new attitude

Too much I have to prove, though I assume you won't care...

[Hook]

I still taste echoes...

They said they are dead, though...

[Verse 2]

I should marry that industrial dancer from the Vines, and we can do that dance to this song a hundred times

What am I but a bitter ex and an idiot

Hideous; [my] ballskin looks like Darth Sidious

Really, this is sidestepping the hurt for the silliness

In 2012, my shoulder was the chilliest

But now, due to global warming, I am sporting a sun-stained smile for these employers I am courting

Now my appeals to pathos are boring

And nobody will honestly believe I'm in mourning

I rebounded like Alonzo, just to get called fake by a Gonzo journalist

I'm murderous

Still refusing to be smart with my purchases

Every song is me shooting darts at worthlessness, tryina' tranquilize the fucking thing

Never hit the bullseye, so this song is a cruddy thing

But...

[Hook]