The Controlled Study That Lost Its Control Group (Romantic Love)

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I have mapped the reward system
In fourteen published papers
I have named the receptors
I have drawn the pathways
I have presented the findings
At conferences
Where people applauded
My understanding
Of what happens
When the brain
Encounters
Something
It wants to keep

And then you
Handed me a coffee
On a Tuesday
And the coffee
Was wrong
You got the order wrong
And I drank it
Without correcting you
Which is the first thing
I have not corrected
In possibly my entire life
And the not correcting
Was the data point
That broke the study
Because the study
Did not have a column
For the willingness
To drink the wrong coffee
And enjoy it
Not despite the wrongness
But because the wrongness
Was yours
And yours
Had become a category
My spreadsheet
Did not anticipate

[Pre-Chorus]
This is not infatuation
Infatuation has a half-life
Of seventy-two hours
And I know this
Because I wrote a song about it
And this
Is not that
This has been going on
For eleven months
And the compound
Has not metabolized
And the receptor
Has not downregulated
And my own research
Suggests
This should not
Still be happening
And it is still happening
And my research
Can go to hell

[Chorus]
L'amour romantique, l'amour romantique
The love that outlasted the half-life of its own chemistry
L'amour romantique, l'amour romantique
The controlled study
That lost its control group
Because the control group
Was me
And I am no longer controlled
I am a woman
Who drank the wrong coffee
On a Tuesday
And has been drinking
The wrong coffee
Every Tuesday since
Because you make it
And the making
Is the thing
Not the coffee
The making
Is the whole thing
And the making
Has a half-life
Measured in something
My papers
Have never had a column for
Which I believe
Is called
The rest of my life

[Verse 2]
You do a thing
With your hands
When you are thinking
You turn a pen
Between your index finger
And your thumb
And the pen
Rotates four times
Before you speak
I have counted
I have always counted
That is what I do
I count and I measure
And I file

But the counting
Of the pen rotations
Is not science
The counting
Is devotion
Dressed in a lab coat
And the lab coat
Is getting thin
And underneath the lab coat
Is a woman
Who has memorized
The speed of a pen
Between someone's fingers
And calls it research
And it is not research
It is the most unscientific thing
I have ever done
And I have done it
Four hundred and twelve times
At last count
Which was Tuesday
Which is always Tuesday
Because Tuesday
Is when you make the coffee
And turn the pen
And I sit across from you
And pretend
To be a scientist
And the pretending
Is getting harder
And I don't mind

[Bridge]
Bà ngoại
Would say
Stop counting
And start cooking
Which is her way
Of saying
Love is not a measurement
Love is a meal
You make for someone
On a Tuesday
Even when the recipe
Is wrong
Especially
When the recipe is wrong
Because the wrong recipe
Made with intention
Feeds better
Than the right recipe
Made with indifference
And you
Have been making
The wrong coffee
With such intention
That the wrong coffee
Is now my favourite drink
And I have not told you this
And I may not
Because the not telling
Is the last
Scientific thing
I have left
And I am holding onto it
The way a swimmer
Holds onto the wall
Before the race
And the letting go
Of the wall
Is the love
And I am almost ready
To let go of the wall

[Outro]
L'amour romantique
The wrong coffee
The pen that turns four times
The Tuesday
The eleven months
That outlasted
Every compound
I have ever studied
The control group
Was me
And I am compromised
And the compromise
Is the most honest data
I have ever collected
And I am not correcting it
And I am not correcting you
And the not correcting
Is the love
And the love
Is the first thing
In my entire career
That I do not need
To understand
To know is true