got a garden of songs where i grow all my thoughts

wish i could harvest one or two for some small talk

i'm always starving for words when you're around

nothing on my tongue so much in my 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.



see the little song bird unable to make a sound

even though she follows her words from town to town

we both have gardens of songs and maybe it's okay

that i am speechless because i picked you this bouquet