EVISRUC[♥]
"Art Is Hard"
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
If at first 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
in the CD jacket sleeves
tired of entertaining
some double-dipped meaning
a soft serve analogy
This drunken angry slur
in thirty-one flavors
You gotta' sink to swim
immerse yourself in rejection
regurgitate some sorry tale
about a boy who sells his love affairs
You gotta' fake the pain
you better make it sting
you're gonna' break a leg
when you get on stage
and they scream your name
"Oh, Cursive is so cool!"
You gotta sink to swim
impersonate greater persons
'cause we all know art is hard
when we don't know who we are
"A Gentleman Caller"
Your gentleman caller
Well, he's been calling on another.
He loves his forbidden fruit
And as it dribbles down his chin
He cries, "Baby, I've been drinking with some friends! Now how 'bout a little kiss."
Bad boy
Rub his nose in it.
What a mess.
and he's playing dumb.
I'm not looking for a lover
All those lovers are liars
I'd never lie to you.
You say you want to get even?
Yeah, you want to get your bad man good?
Well, are you in the mood?
You bad girl
Does it feel good being bad?
And getting worse?
But in the morning,
on the sober dawn of Sunday...
You're not sure what you have done.
Who told you love was fleeting?
Sometimes men can be so misleading
to take what they need from you.
Whatever you need to make you feel
like you've been the one behind the wheel.
The sunrise is just over that hill,
The worst is over.
Whatever I said to make you think
that love's the religion of the weak..
This morning we love like weaklings.
The worst is over.
The worst is over.
"The Recluse"
I wake alone, in a woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone- and pretend that I am finally home.
The room is littered with her books and notebooks.
I imagine what they say, like, 'Shoo fly, don't bother me,'
And i can hardly get myself out of her bed.
for fear of never lying in this bed again.
Oh christ, I'm not that desperate. oh no- oh God- I am.
How'd I end up here to begin with? I don't know.
Why do I start what I can't finish?
Oh please, don't barrage me with questions to all those ugly answers.
My ego's like my stomach- it keeps shitting what I feed it.
But maybe I don't want to finish anything anymore..
maybe I can wait in bed 'til she comes home. and whispers.
"you're in my web now - I've come to wrap you up tight 'til it's time to bite down."
I wake alone in a woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone - and pretend that I am finally home.
home
P I C T ♠ U R E S
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