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