The song is a jab at “a couple of assholes at the LA Times.” It criticizes how they are just middle-aged wannabes who couldn’t find success in the music industry and so became critics to be “hip” and validate themselves despite not having anything interesting to say.
You never lived in the streets
Though you wish you had
Not enough talent to play a guitar
You failed as an artist 'cause you lacked the confidence
Now you're a critic and you're at the top
(The top of what?)
You don't believe what you write
You're an imposter; you don't, don't, don't
Believe what you write
You can't get used to the fact that you ain't a kid
You like to think that you speak for them all
You'd cut off your nose if you thought it
Would make you hip
It drives you crazy you can't be a star
(Oh, ain't that tough!)
You don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't, don't, don't
Believe what you write
You take the credit while others do all the work
You like to think you discovered them first
But we all know you moved in after it was safe
That way, you could never get hurt
(You like to play God!)
You don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't believe what you write
(You're an imposter), you don't, don't, don't
Believe what you write
You're just a critic; we know why you drink so much
Jealousy slowly consuming your gut
The streets that you never knew are just
Where they've always been
Your head is firmly lodged way up your butt
(Where it belongs)
Imposter was written by Danny Elfman.
Imposter was produced by Peter Solley & Oingo Boingo.
Oingo Boingo released Imposter on Fri Jun 19 1981.