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 its okay 
that i am speechless because i picked you this bouquet.