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 “nothing, I was just thinking how we don’t have a song, ”
And he says,
Our song is a slamming screen door,
Sneaking 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 when 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, had 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,
Our song is a slamming screen door,
Sneaking 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 when I should have,
And when I got home, before I said amen,
Asking God if He could play it again.
I’ve heard every album, listened to the radio,
Waiting for something to come along,
That was as good as our song,
‘Cause our song is a slamming screen door,
Sneaking out late tapping on your window,
When we’re on the phone, and he talks real slow,
‘Cause it’s late and his mama don’t know,
Our song is the way he laughs,
The first date man I didn’t kiss him when I should have,
And when I got home, before I said amen,
Asking God if He could play it again.
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…