i was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car,

he's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, 

the other on my heart,

i look around, turn the radio down,

he says baby is something wrong?,

i say nothin' i was just thinkin' how we don't have a song,

and he says...



* our song is a slamming screen door,

sneakin' out late, tapping on your window,

when we're on the phone and you talk real slow,

cause it's late and your mama don't know,

our song is the way you laugh,

the first date, "man, i didn't kiss her, and i should have",

and when i got home...before i said amen,

asking god if he could play it again.



i was walking up the front porch steps after everything that day,

had gone all wrong and been trampled on,

and lost and thrown away,

got to the hallway, well on my way to my lovin' bed,

i almost didn't notice all the roses,

and the note that said...



[Repeat *]



i've heard every album, listened to the radio,

waited for something to come along,

that was as good as our song...



[Repeat *]



i was riding shotgun with my hair undone,

in the front seat of his car,

i grabbed a pen and an old napkin,

and i....wrote down our song.