my time is spent in funny ways
my love is spent on solemn Tuesdays
switch my ring, your words still sting
and I'm left to my own devices

you're a color I've never seen before
an act I cannot distinguish
though my love is spent in funny ways
your heart can never hold all of my rage

because what am I to do,
when I wake up with a headache and intent to enjoy
and it's evident in a heartbeat

my violets are withering
my eyes are glazing over
over, begin, what are we to do?