but I offered him a drink.
He drank till my cup was empty
and threw me in me to sink.
I struggled back to shore,
you can bet that I was sore,
but Thing 2 grabbed me by my finger,
and told me his intentions were pure.
The river of love is full again,
the river of love is me,
but Thing 2 is still famished,
’cause my cup was smashed at sea.
So tell me, ìyá mi ‘Kojú,
help me make my strength from you.
How do you tell yourself that Thing 1
is everything but nothing like Thing 2?