Such sweet words that flow from his lips

But how can I let myself believe them?

What would it be like, to start a family?

Just me and him

A slice of apple pie on a checkered table cloth

One or two kids running around on green grass

He would have returned from war with a couple battle scars

And a lot of stories to tell about the marines

I would be a mechanical engineer

And build a treehouse in the backyard

Singing the children to sleep with soft Spanish lullabies

And we’d make a beautiful interracial couple

Not paying heed to his family of Anglo supremacists

But it’s all just imagination

From the words he speaks

That I fail to believe