Lyrics:

Under constant correction
A fraud, a fraud
Someone's perception, trying not to bore
Im a cold-hearted kidder
Applaud, applaud
If you're the highest bidder, I'm yours

You figure out pathetic sets
We're not sure of the etiquette
We think out pathetic sets
We're not sure of the etiquette

And if you found this, it's probably too late
Clinically cynical, hereditary hate
If you found this, it's probably too late
Approaching the pinnacle and running out of mates

If we concentrate on being off the cuff
Not sure we're ready but probably rough
Frightened that honesty isn't enough
And it's nothing on the early stuff