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.