A wasp’s memory can only go so far back,
But I’m speaking for myself.
I remember so clearly when I realized I lacked
The grace of a honeybee.
That day you chose the bee over me…
Not just any bee, though,
But the queen.
I, the wasp, was taken back.
I was being led to the honeycomb,
Which is where I belong.
I only say this because it says so in the song.
I buzzed myself to you because I knew you missed me.
I am not like the queen bee, though, not one bit.
Blue instead of brown,
Always buzzing some sort of sound.
But dare I say…
Not long after, however,
The queen bee became so much clever.
You saw through the honey blonde,
Looked into the sunset brown.
Took one last look at me,
And had me flown out of town.