33 lyrics

You probably pictured it differently

Than rusty VWs all your life

At one point almost married a butcher

So solid, so grounded, a craftsman, you thought

Now solving crosswords in bed

Leave the light on, there's no one that minds

'O8, you stopped wearing makeup

You're sick just thinking about “en la beige”

Your green boutique dress

Doesn't fit you no more

That's a shame cause boutique's coming back

Now faint-hearted dance moves in the bathroom

You and the mirror, the two of you

One year you dated a professor

On the third date he told you he liked peeing games

You always wanted to paint or to emigrate

Off the hustle and the errands, just fucked it all up

Grandma's still sending you money

For one decent dinner, no plus one

Petrarka wrote 300 sonnets

All for a woman that didn't exist

On the way home you cried in the taxi

Love is an awful enemy, my dear

This year you are 33

But when you cry you still look sixteen