Don’t need diamonds, don’t need gold,
just the streetlights and your hand to hold.
Coffee cold on the dashboard night,
your laugh spins the moon into yellow light.
Radio cracks, but the rhythm’s right—
two shadows singing out of sight.
No mansion, no fame, no wedding ring,
just your whispered “stay” and this old six-string.
We’re broke as the dawn, but darling, we’re free;
the world keeps counting—let it count without me.