our song

I was riding shotgun with my hair undone
In the front seat of his car,
He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel
The other on my heart

I look around, turn the radio down
He says, "Baby is something wrong?"
I say, "Nothing I was just thinking
How we don't have a song" and he says;

Our song is the slamming screen door
Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window
When we're on the phone and you talk real slow
'Cause it's late and your mama don't know

Our song is the way you laugh
The first date man, I didn't kiss her and I should have
And when I got home, 'fore I said amen
Asking God, if He could play it again

I was riding shotgun with my hair undone
In the front seat of his car,
I grabbed a pen and an old napkin
And I wrote down our song.





addictive (!)