Lyrics:

They say you walk around as if a ghost had crossed your path
And turned into a readin' material
And as it happens to be chosen from the torn or taffeta
You're frozen in a contemplation of a win

Okay, that was maybe little heavy on the word play
But as first thoughts go, they were mostly to the right
And as you register an itch or the things that make you sweat
To accuse the weights and measures of a lie
A lie