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 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 'til it's all the same old shit
oh, 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 in 31 flavors
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 cuz we all know art is hard when we don't know who we are
