I wanted to place my heart on the hearth.
I wanted to show someone all that I can be.
Why was I so scared back then? I wanted to speak to you.
I dreamt of days when I walked up to you and saved you from a bully,
of days when I impressed you, and you let me hold you.
But for some reason I couldn’t talk around the dam in my throat.

So I started over. New places and new people.
I wanted to be a somebody to someone, to pull out
all the stops and make you feel like you’re worth it.
So I invested. God ******, I gave it my all.
But, like the tomatoes in a garden unpicked,
when the sun went away, I withered. And every year
I’d regrow my fruit and shine so someone new can pick me.
But every year, my tomatoes would wither.

I’m done with this garden and I’m done with this fruit.
I don’t want to be someone special to anyone nor you.
I want to be me, with no frills or flash.
I still want to have you,
but with no strings attached.
I want to disappoint you, **** you off, and make you laugh.

Why? Because I’m nothing special.
I don’t want to be special,
I just want to be me.
Some ordinary man, who’s extra ran out
on those who wasted it.

This is all I got now, but I’m
happy with it.