I was living in color; HD, flat screen, reclined

Comfort and leather, but the picture got dimmer

This year I could swear the water tasted way worse

And I feel sick, the water tasted way worse

I was living all over, point at a place on a map I was down to go there

But if I’m being honest, I could feel the paper dulling up that shine

I could hear the friction, I could feel the grind

 

Because we’re falling out of love

 

You were sporting some leather, over Meat is Murder

It doesn’t get better, irony like that is reserved for the TV

For the TV

Are you on the TV? No, so take that shit away from me.

You’re hung over, been up all night no light

Is this your infinite summer?

Dressed up like a king

I feel resentment boiling in my blood

I think it’s time that we give this shit up

 

Because we’re falling out of love