 I get the sense that it's a lost cause. I get the sense that you might really love her. The sex gon' be evidence. The sex is evidence. I tried to ration with you, no more. There's a crime of passion, but damn. You was all to reach. You was at the farmer's market with your perfect peach. Now I'm in the basement, planning on my page. And now you laying face down, got me singing over a beat. I'm so mature. I'm so mature. I'm so mature. I got me a therapist to tell me there's other men like you. More than I just want you.