I'll be 26,
You'll be 27,
I'll say, "I love you,"
And you'll say I'm from heaven.
You'll ask me why I write,
I'll say that I love to,
You'll smile and grin wickedly,
And say, "Do you love doing me, too?"
I'll be sitting outside,
And your head will be on my knee,
We'll look into each other's eyes,
And you'll ask, "Babe, will you marry me?"
You'll be sitting at work,
And there'll be a picture of us on your desk,
There will be a ring on my finger,
And my hand will be on your chest.
We'll have an orange and black cat,
And plants will be everywhere,
The kinds that I love and the kinds you hate,
I'll be 28,
And you'll be 29.
