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.