Finest Hour

If I gave you my finest hour, would you stick around?

'Cause I'm sick of giving my favorite rhymes to the girls who just leave town

One got married and one had kids

One out priced me in West Ends

And when I see her I try and make amends

She puts her foot down in her fella's Benz

You know that I can't compete with that

I can't compete with that

It's a fact

Warm did one to Echo Park

With an old pen-pal who's now an oligarch

She sent my boxes one by one

I'll FedEx his Xmas's at once

And as I unpacked the arid shirt

And The National prints from the last concert

I thought I'll probably never see that girl again

You know that I can't compete with that

I can't compete with that

It's a fact

You know that I can't compete with that

I can't compete with that