Oh So Pseudo - Napalm Death

And you might just believe that

A brow-beaten, a sheepish lament

Is a sure-fire way to be absolved

Fan the flames back to the corpse pile you disown

Warming like touchy-feely at the sweatshop turned tomb

Then come assurance: we’re of gold standard

Against which standard?

Standard scripted stream of 'woe is me'

Assurances, accomplices

Oh so pseudo

Exoneration, beg your pardon

Oh so pseudo

We go boom on our cheap tat

Fraying like our standards

And repeat like standard

Standard sorry state to sorrier serfs

Assurances, accomplices

Oh so pseudo

Resolution, dead impassioned

Oh so pseudo

Propel oneself

Vindication, never in question…

Oh so pseudo

And oh pseudo

Exoneration, beg your pardon

Margins must increase