Hey, you and me are going to slow-dance to this song someday. You'll put your hands on my hips as we sway in a room that's ours (really, really just ours) and I'll say something dumb about the way you dance and you'll kiss me softly on that ticklish place on neck. I'll hold you a little bit tighter and you won't mind and I'll tell you that when I was eighteen years old, I imagined dancing with you to this song and it'll be a sad and nostalgic and hopeful moment. And if it's not, well, then that's okay, too. I love you to the moon and back, bonitinho.