This Bouquet

got a garden of songs where I grow all my thougths
wish I could harvest one or two for some small talk
seems like I'm starving for words whenever you're around
nothing on my tongue and so much in the ground
nothing on my tongue and so much in the 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 carpeted floor
if it weren't for my brain I'd just go over and make friends
to bad about my brain cause I'd like to make friends

see the little songbird unable to make a sound
you'd never know she follows her words from town to town
we both got gardens of songs, maybe it's okay
that I am speechless cause I picked you this bouquet
yep, sure am speechless, but I picked you this bouquet