cut it out
your self-inflicted pain
is getting too routine
the crowds are catching on
to the self-afflicted song
well here we come 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
til it's all the same old shit

oh, a second verse
well, color me fatigued
i'm hiding in the leaves of the cd jacket sleeves
tired of entertaining some double-dip meaning
a soft-serve analogy
those drunken, angry slurs
yeah, in thirty one flavors
gotta sink, gotta sink, gotta sink to swim
emerse yourself in rejection
regurgitate some sorry tale
about a boy who sells his love affairs
gotta fake, fake, fake the pain
gotta make, make, make it sting
gotta 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
because we all know art is hard
when we don't know who we are