Don't give me any status quo love,
I don't want good looks, riches;
Loads of fun.
I was not made for someone good looking
Or generous life of the party types,
I need someone very deep and free,
Who can make me scared that they might leave
I have only two speeds left you see;
And I’m searching for the mechanic
Who can fix my broken clutch
And replace the missing gears
In the center of my being.
You must be somewhat homely,
Taciturn, not lonely;
Secure, but never well to do.
Be able to laugh at my fears,
And make fun of my tears-
Because that's what I've gotten used to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem