There was so much to have, back then: 
It all seemed right, and overdue -- 
But none of that meant anything 
When I met you. 

Perhaps my memory's faulty, but 
You seemed to take up every space 
Within my brain, as all my dreams 
Fell into place. 

But nothing could prepare me for 
What I would feel or hear or see 
As you revealed the gift that is 
Yourself to me -- 

There was so much to have, back then. 
But none of it seemed real, or true, 
Except the single, burning fact 
Of wanting 

You