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-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 numbing charade until the day you finally wake up and you’re not afraid

Bound by my own disposition-the endless hunt to find fruition
I’m insatiable even if my cup is full
My sore throats are now routine-gotta write those songs and make ‘em scream
They’re insatiable, even if their ears are full-but then again...

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