Taking gambles at what you could,
and no matter if they declined
'cause you wouldn't have let it stood.

And behind the upholstered wood,
you took off your velvet gloves
in a way that I never could.

And I envy this about you.

But they'll say that you're out of line,
sometimes enough to make you cry,
and I'd tell you, "It will be fine,"

If I didn't envy you so.

But isn't that the way envy goes?
Making you scared to let things flow,
and stealing the thoughts at one stroke.
Isn't that just the way love goes?