Falling Out of Love At This Volume.

by Prophecies In Kodak

*so, people love and they hate and i guess it's just our turn to hate. yeah, you were just some song i wrote- a poem on a page.

At one point i convinced myself it was all dollars
but then i learned that change had more intent.
both in the possessive and recessive form i guess
for broken phrases you know i hadnt really meant.
you poured me blue tea inside of green tea cups
knowing that i grew up with sleepy on my eyes,
then the change in colour set a change in taste
and yeah i grew up trying to learn how not to fly.
it's not easy being dreamy, and i guess that hurts
and sometimes your eyes gotta rain to learn.
so blow the steam inside of corners of blank walls,
while you take the time to digest flavored words.
my intentions were never to make you eat them,
the words you sent in the letter without an address
and i'm walking down the halls like i even have a reason
but we both know you dont care what i really meant.
i'd be lying if i said that i didnt miss you and i wont
because i know you liked honesty over your head
with magazine racks and coke cans scattered out
across the apartment floors you painted bloody red.
and do you remember how i always tried to buy you
those floral print curtains you said you didnt hate?
well, i know you lied about liking them for my benefit
so i guess we've got the wrong idea about touching face.
now i hope that i can really make you remember this,
the morning i parted the curtains before i heard your voice.
and i sang to pigeons sitting outside on the window sill
because i knew singing to you wasnt any choice.
but you heard me clear as day and i guess that awoke you,
and it always confused me that that made you so sad.
although now i realize through blue steam and green stains,
you slept to give the chance of love a little less than you had.