I just would like to be great,
and I'm so in love I can barely contain myself.

I'm so in love with you, it's this crazy romance
and I'm so in love with you,
but I would just like to be great,
but I don't think I'm allowed
because I don't think people know what that is anymore.

But I'd like to do it in some outgrown boots,
some dusty old shirt ripped
some cavernous roots spilling over the seams
of this desperate reach to be great,
and this wetting of being in love.

This waiting for you to return
to these tattered and ashen old hand-me-down jeans,
these crackling fingers and busted old bruises
and barely before you I'd like you to love me.

And love you for always I likely will do.