I walk these streets like a shadow,
a trap hidden in every corner
My hometown for a million years, Maia!
Still, I feel lke a foreigner.
What if she’s brilliant, Maia?
What if she’s as smart as me?
What if he’s chosen her so well I could have loved her myself?
Don’t tell me, my soul was never that bold.
I fold, Maia, I fold.

I’ve been spending these days wondering what would be worst: if she’s pretty or if she’s not
If she is, I could hold him as shallow. I could feast for days on that

But if she isn’t, I’ll know that it’s [bad word] love -
but against beauty, I [bad word] -
It’s July, but my fingers are cold.
I fold, Maia. I fold.
And there are days when I want to feel him so bad it makes me lose my sleep
There are nights I could swear I got the fever just thinking of him
Maia, you said I should try counting sheep.
So I met them, it was on a Sunday. I ran into them on the street
There I was with my near perfect CV, there I was with my college degree
My clothes much more well [bad word] than hers, [bad word] more witty and street
She’s got the bosom of an eighteen year old.
I fold, Maia, I fold.