LOATHE

If one thing’s for sure,

It’s the way the roses,

Fell out your window,

When you slammed the back door

The neighbors hands,

They were holding,

Oh, they’re holding,

So much more

There’s better days,

Better ways to throw my weight around.

The bed we made,

Only holds the shape of one of us now,

Better be somebody to loathe

Times have been stamped,

Framed and frozen,

Soul of a woman,

Salt of man

And in my ways,

They’re meant to be broken,

Sun may be creeping,

Through the clouds

There’s better days,

Better ways to throw my weight around.

The bed we made,

Only holds the shape of one of us now,

Better be somebody to loathe

All in all it was an honest mistake.

Cross to the left, got faded all ways,

The sign it calls for always,

Somebody to loathe