Am I asking for the moon?
Is it really so implausible?
That you and I could soon,
Come to some kind of arrangement?
I'm not asking for the moon,
I've always been a realist,
When it's really nothing more,
Than a simple rearrangement.
With one roof above our heads,
A warm house to return to,
We could start with separate beds,
I could sleep alone or learn to.
I'm not suggesting that we'd find some earthly paradise forever,
I mean how often does that happen now? The answer's probably never.
But we could come to an arrangement, a practical arrangement,
And you could learn to love me given time.

I'm not promising the moon,
I'm not promising a rainbow,
Just a practical solution,
To a solitary life.
I'd be a father to your boy,
A shoulder you could lean on,
How bad could it be,
To be my wife?
With one roof above our heads,
A warm house to return to,
You wouldn't have to cook for me,
You wouldn't have to learn to,
I'm not suggesting that this proposition here could last forever,
I've no intention of deceiving you, you're far too clever.
But we could come to an arrangement,
A practical arrangement,
And perhaps you'd learn to love me given time.
It may not be the romance that you had in mind,