Robin and a companion perform a spoken-word duet about sidekick loneliness in Gotham. Robin confesses he finds Batman's heroic deeds—stopping a 17-car pileup, dismantling a bioweapon, rescuing a cat—more romantic than any love letter, oscillating between self-deprecating comedy and genuine yearning for his attention.
It was a Saturday night in Gotham City. I was sitting in my tights. Lord, they weren't pretty. Eating cereal alone in my little Robin suit. Alfred wouldn't even look at me. And I can't say I blame the brute. The Bat Signal wasn't lit. The scanner made no sound. I'd reorganized my utility belt for the 47th time around. Looked at my reflection in Bruce's polished floor. A 23-year-old man in red and green. What in the hell am I doing this for?
Holy hottick, Batman, where did you go?
I'm fighting crime in yoga pants in the cold and in the snow.
The Joker called and hung up. Penguin stood me up again.
Holy heartache, Batman, I need my better half or I'm gonna lose my mind by half past 10. I called up Commissioner Gordon just to hear a friendly voice. He said, "Son, you need a hobby." I said, sir, I had no choice.
I tried pottery on Tuesday, threw a Batarang instead.
The whole class hit the floor and one poor woman nearly lost her head. I tried therapy on Thursday.
Doc said, tell me how you feel.
I said, I live in a cave with a billionaire who won't admit that this is real.
She said, that sounds delusional. Lady, you have no idea.
He's got a car that goes 300 miles an hour and a jawline that makes me want to disappear.
Holy heartache, Batman, pick up the Batphone.
I've been talking to the gargoyles and they're starting to feel like home.
I rewatched our greatest hits: the Riddler, Catwoman, Two-Face, Bane.
Holy heartache, Batman, if you don't show up tonight, I'm joining the wrong side of this game. And then I heard it, that sound, that engine, that ridiculous, beautiful, unnecessary, wonderful engine pulling into the cave at quarter past 11, smelling like cologne and justice and some kind of heaven.
He took off the mask. Well, he kept on the mask.
He always keeps on the mask. But he looked at me with those eyes. Whatever color those are, nobody knows. It's always so dark in here. And he said, Robin, I stopped a 17-car pileup, dismantled a bioweapon, and saved the mayor's cat from a third-story window. And I still made it back by midnight. And I thought, that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.
Holy heartache, Batman, you ridiculous man, flying around in a cape like that's a normal plan. We've been doing this for 30 years and you You still won't hold my hand, but you always, always, always show up when you can. Holy heartache, Batman, I'd burn this city down, but you'd probably save it in that stupid gorgeous gown. So I'll polish up the Batmobile and I'll press my little tights. Holy heartache, Batman, I'll see you on the other side.
The other side of another Gotham night. I walked in the light. The bat signal light. I walked in the light. The bat signal light.
Because he always comes back. He always comes back. He always comes back. He always comes back. Lord help me always. Comes back. Oh, holy hearty, holy hearty, holy hearty, holy hearty, holy hearty.
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