Cursed by my imagination,
Teeming with echoes of situations.
I do not feel well,
Pressed beneath this spell.
Polishing my social skills
With one more drink and two more pills.
I do not feel good.
I thought by now I would.
[Chorus.]
But then again,
It's like one thousand paper cuts,
soaked in vinegar.
like the battles with yourself
that leave you insecure
It's all just a nulling charade
Until the day you finally wake up
and you're not,
afraid.
Bound my my own disposition,
an endless hunt to find for wishing.
I'm insatiable, even if my cup is full.
My sore throats are now routine.
Gotta write those songs,
make 'em scream.
They're insatiable,
even if their ears are full.
[Chorus.]
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