I'm tired of ways to start a fight,

I pulled the carpets from under your feet and pushed the couches out the kitchen door.

I just can't seem to want to stand you anymore.

It's the little things, the little stupid things.

Your washes are just shallow.

You swallow me and spit me out.

I just destroy and I refuse to leave behind a messy room.

You just shut me down.

Like a broken shotgun or a visual that blinds.

After the final spin you drag me from your bowels

And throw me around again.

While you hang me out to dry.

The marmalade,

It's solid now, the stains ain't gone.

The oil is stuck where you left it.

Water won't do anything.