Mai is a bright, rain-splashed postcard from teenage Paris, where the singer craves endless evenings of shouting in the streets, climbing rooftops, sketching friends, and talking to strangers without a care. The verses burst with a hunger for pure, unfiltered freedom while the chorus slips in a confession: “Can we go back to that story? I should have believed you.” This tug-of-war between carefree adventure and lingering regret wraps the song in the warm glow of spring sunsets and sudden showers, hinting at a love or friendship the narrator wishes they could rewind.
By the end, rebellion wins out. The singer rejects overthinking, vowing to keep partying, refuse explanations, and turn every accusation of being a rebel into a new song. That mix of nostalgia and fiery independence captures what May often feels like in youth: half wistful memory, half electrifying now, all set to VIDEOCLUB’s dreamy synth-pop beat.