I wanna come home to roses And dirty little notes on Post-its And when my hair starts turning gray He'll say I'm like a fine wine, better with age I guess I learned it from my parents That true love starts with friendship A kiss on the forehead, a date night Fake an apology after a fight I need a man who's patient and kind Gets out of the car and holds the door I wanna slow dance in the living room like We're eighteen at senior prom and grow Old with someone who makes me feel young : 0.5