I'm really sorry, steven, but your bicycle's been stolen. i was watching it for you 'til you came back in the fall. i guess i didn't do such a good job after all. i was feeling really sorry, steven, and i spent all morning grieving. and everybody's saying that you'll take the news gracefully. somehow, i don't think i'll be getting off that easily.
i meant her no harm when i left her unlocked outside the orange street food farm. i was just running in, didn't think i'd be that long. i came back, she was gone and all that was there was some bored old dog, leashed up to the place where your bicycle had been. i guess we'll never see poor madelline again.
let this be consolation, steven, that all the while you were in england, i treated her with care and respect and gave her lots of love, and i was usually pretty good 'bout locking her up. where has she gone? well, i bet she's on the bottom of the french town pond, rudely abused on some heshner's joy ride. so i wrote you this song in the hopes that you'd forgive me even though it was wrong, being so careless with a thing so great and taking your poor madeline away.