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.
