Your Worst Pronunciation (Teasing Love)

Lyrics

Go on.
Say it again.
Just for me.

The party was loud. December nineteenth.
You were nervous, pointing at the slate board.
You said, "Could you pass the... char-cutie-ree?"
And the world didn't stop.
No one corrected you.
But I heard it.
A tiny, perfect, incorrect sound.
A gift I didn't know I was waiting for.
I just smiled into my wine glass.
And passed you the board.

Don't you ever learn it.
Don't you ever look it up.
Because your worst pronunciation
is my favorite kind of love.
It's the key to a room only we're in.
Our own private joke, our original sin.
Let the scholars and the pedants keep their perfect speech.
That little mistake is what keeps you in my reach.

Now, when we're at some dinner,
and the waiter says it right,
"shar-coo-ter-ee,"
all polished and precise...
I catch your eye.
You give the smallest wince.
A little shared conspiracy.
It's been the same way ever since.
It’s the gentle pull on the thread,
seeing if the fabric holds.
A story better left unsaid,
more precious than silver or gold.

So don't you ever learn it.
Don't you ever look it up.
Because your worst pronunciation
is my favorite kind of love.
It's the key to a room only we're in.
Our own private joke, our original sin.
Let the scholars and the pedants keep their perfect speech.
That little mistake is what keeps you in my reach.

They say the word 'tease'
used to mean pulling wool apart.
Just gently separating the fibers.
Finding the strength, testing the heart.
It's not about the breaking.
It's about the making.
Making something warm from a tangled start.
And that one wrong syllable...
it's the softest part.

So go on.
Ask for the char-cutie-ree.
I'll pass it to you.
Every time.
Just say it for me.