Oh So Pseudo

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