My jeans aren't ripped where they're supposed to be,
And I wear the same jumper everyday,
Purple dye in my hair is there, barely,
And my boots aren't black anymore, they’re grey
I'm afraid my voice isn't low and sweet,
My eyes don't blaze brightly in the sun,
I'm not easy to sweep off of my feet,
Commitment makes me want to turn and run,
But I think, if you could give a chance,
I could slowly turn into something great,
Because this whole romance thing is a dance,
And to learn the steps, it's never too late,
And I think I'd very much like to see,
The person your attention could make me.