It’s terrible that
The only times you’re nice to me
Is when I’m feeling terrible.

It’s the good times that I want to share
Not the bad times when you don’t care

Ring the bell
To start a fight

I don’t wanna talk about the future
In a country that is living in the past
You’re wishing, waiting for another ’54
And all you do is talk about before

Smoking on the bathroom floor
the album blaring out
breaking stuff
looking at my reflection a lot
all that mess.

I want to cook for someone, I want to send silly text messages to someone, I want the first thing I see in the morning to be a sleepy face, I want to see a pretty girl wearing one of my jackets, I want to wait on street corners for minutes that seem like hours all excited and nervous then suddenly be casual, I want to be seen through, I want to be breathless…

it must be Monday

I wish I could snap my fingers and turn your life around…

But one day you’re going to find I did that and didn’t tell you.

from my life
and too soft
For a wife I know I’ll never have.

– P. Andrews

We can’t go on together…we just fight and fight and we wonder because we can’t read eachother’s minds of myabe language gets in our way but we try so hard and it just doesn’t click anymore and it could be so great but it just isn’t anymore and it’s an honest mistake that we misread into it, like aphasia I had the best intentions but you heard the wrong things, and it could be all my fault or it could be all yours but either way we can’t go on together

Maybe it’s a biodome we’re looking over
Maybe it’s a cold year we’re waiting for
And we wonder where everyone is