Cut it out
Your self-inflicted pain
Is getting too routine
The crowds are catching on
To the self-inflicted song
Well here we go again:
The art of acting weak
Fall in love to fail
To boost your CD sales
And that CD sells
Yeah, what a hit
You've got to repeat it
You gotta sink to swim
First you don't, you don't succeed
You gotta recreate your misery
'Cause we all know art is hard
Young artists have gotta starve
Try and fail and try again
The comforts of repetition
Keep churning out those hits
Till it's all the same old shitOh, a second verse
Well, color me fatigued
I'm hiding in the leaves
In the CD jacket sleeves
Tired of entertaining
Some double-dipped meaning
A soft-serve analogy
Those drunken, angry slurs
Yeah, in 31 flavors
You gotta sink, gotta sink, gotta sink to swim
Immerse yourself in rejection
Regurgitate some sorry tale
About a boy who sells his love affairs
You gotta fake, fake, fake the pain
You better make, make, make it sting
You're gonna break, break, break a leg
When you get on stage and they scream your name"Oh, Cursive is so cool!"You gotta sink, gotta sink, gotta sink to swim
Impersonate greater persons
'Cause we all know art is harder
When we don't know who we areHey! Hey!
Hey! Hey!
