Baseball is more interesting when runs are few.
Love is best when I don’t know. And so I love you.
I whiff when you throw fast, and when you throw slow.
I love you, anyway. You just never know.
To guess fastball, and win it all
1-0, with a fly ball almost foul, that just makes it over the wall.
To win you with a poem, or something stupid I say.
A kiss. A wish that reaches you from far away.
Never mind the dinners and the wedding ring.
I like it when you don’t think you can but I tell you, you can sing.
You don’t believe in yourself. You never do.
You get upset at nothing. And I love you.
You made me hate you. But I keep on loving.
I was nervous, but my mind keeps moving.
Two strikes, two outs. You don’t smile.
I once thought I could hit a baseball a mile.
But you throw too hard. I can’t hit you.
I just stick my bat out. I steal. That’s all I can do.
Bring it. Hate me. I still love you.
Baseball is more interesting when runs are none, or few.