Soft-spokeness you tolerate.
I'm qualified but apparently,
I'm a character they estimate.
I consider my ability.
Reserve my seat,
"Incomparable",
And advocate the typical.
Endow us something incredible.
It's subsequently thrown.
Chorus:
I need a second opinion,
And you know me better.
How can we experience,
If we regardlessly condescend?
I need a second opinion,
More perfect than certain.
I'm a shadow of the talented,
A tread on necessity.
Unfortunately pre-prepaired,
A circumstance you can't sustain.
I'd clarify my ornaments,
An improvement to the pre-ordained.
Satirical of what
I'm about,
Is the benefit not from the doubt.
It's presently indecorous,
and killing all we've shown.
Chorus:
You'll be hearing them call me soon.
I'm striking a pose but I'll cheer you on.
Their shifting sights won't stare at me.
They're making this bearable again.
They're making this bearable again.
Chorus:
I'm a skeptic of earned suspense