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Got a garden of songs where I grow all my thoughts
Wish I could harvest one or two for some small talk
Seems liks I'm starving for words whenever you're around
Nothing on my tongue so much in my ground
Nothing on my tongue so much in my ground
Ground
Half the time, I got my gaze trained on your motel door
Fourth door from the end
Rest of the time my gaze lays like a stain on the carpeted floor
If it weren't for my brain I'd go over and make friends
Too bad about my brain 'cause I'd like to make
Friends
Friends
♬
See the little songbird unable to make a sound
You never know she follows her words from town to town
We both got gardens of songs and maybe it's okay
That I am speechless 'cause I picked you this bouquet
Yup, sure am speachless, but I picked you this boquet
Hey
Hey
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