This Bouquet

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.