I've got this notion,   that moving out is better,   Than this commotion,   if she complains I wont let her,      Tell me what to do   and when she wants to argue   ill remind her that were through      A late reminder,   and post-it notes and markers,   were it not kinder her black eye would be darker,      And all these brown boxes havent helped me move one bit   in half-empty rooms they sit,      Stay thats where they will stay   I could never say,   I would never say,   "This is over"      I've got this cupid   hummel from Wilhelms Sackett   Its pretty stupid, but none-the-less ill pack it   and this boxcutters too dull,   other wise id end it all,   theres still boxes in the hall,      And stay, thats where they will stay,   I could never place any other blame,   And how could you even go,   on living if its so, unintentional,   I'd like to know