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 by 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.   I gotta write those songs,   make 'em scream.   They're insatiable,   even if their ears are full.      [Chorus.]