Infatuation

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I have approximately
Seventy-two hours
Before the phenylethylamine
Metabolizes
And I return
To the version of myself
That sleeps before midnight
And eats meals
At intervals
Recommended by people
Who have never felt
What I am feeling
Which is
Everything
At once
And none of it
Is accurate
And all of it
Is better
Than accurate
Has ever been
Seventy-two hours
Before the norepinephrine
Stops explaining
Why your voice
Is the most important frequency
In a city
Of eight million frequencies
And my auditory cortex
Has decided
To filter everything
That is not you
Including traffic
And my own name
When someone else says it
Which happened Tuesday
And I did not hear it
Because you were telling me
Something about October
And October
Is now the most important month
And I have no idea
What you said about it
[Pre-Chorus]
This is not love
I know this is not love
Love has a half-life
Measured in years
This has a half-life
Measured in the distance
Between your last text
And my decision
To check if my phone is broken
Because four minutes
Is too long
And my phone
Is not broken
And four minutes
Is not too long
And I know this
And the knowing
Changes nothing
[Chorus]
L'amour coup de foudre, l'amour coup de foudre
The lightning strike that has already done its math
L'amour coup de foudre, l'amour coup de foudre
Seventy-two hours
Of incorrect data
That feels more correct
Than anything peer-reviewed
In my entire life
I am letting the experiment run
Not because it will succeed
But because the failure
Will be the most interesting failure
I have had in years
And my years
Have been very correct
And very quiet
And very well-rested
And I am tired
Of being rested
I want to be wrong
At a hundred and fifty-five
Beats per minute
And the wrong
Is the most awake
I have been
Since I stopped
Believing
That being right
Was the same thing
As being alive
[Verse 2]
I reorganized my bookshelf
At two in the morning
Not because it needed reorganizing
But because the energy
Had to go somewhere
And the books
Were the only things
In my apartment
That could be rearranged
Without consequences
I have written your name
In the margin
Of a journal article
About synaptic pruning
Which is the brain's process
Of removing connections
It no longer needs
And the irony
Of writing your name
In the margin
Of a paper
About removing connections
Is not lost on me
And I wrote it anyway
Because the infatuation
Does not care about irony
It cares about the margin
And the margin
Had space
And your name
Fit perfectly
In the space
And the fitting
Was the only evidence
I needed
[Bridge]
In seventy-two hours
I will be embarrassed
By this song
The way you are embarrassed
By a fever
After the fever breaks
And you realize
You said things
To the nurse
That you would not say
To anyone
While your temperature
Was responsible
But right now
My temperature
Is not responsible
And the nurse
Is the song
And I am saying things
I will not say
When the phenylethylamine
Has finished its business
And left the building
And taken October with it
And taken your frequency with it
And left me
With a reorganized bookshelf
And a margin
With your name in it
And a body
That remembers
What it felt like
To be incorrect
At speed
[Outro]
Seventy-two hours
Sixty-eight now
The clock
Is the cruelest instrument
In the apartment
And I am watching it
And I am not
Reaching for the extinguisher
And the not reaching
Is the infatuation
And the infatuation
Is almost over
And the almost
Is everything