[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 a**ume 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 f**ing thing
Never hit the bullseye, so this song is a cruddy thing
But...
[Hook]