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, it's something wrong.
I say nothing, I was just thinking how we don't have a song.
And he says, our song is the slamming screen door, sneaking out late, tapping on your window.
When we're on the phone and you're talking 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, boy, 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 loving bed.
I almost didn't notice all the roses and the note that said,
our song is the slamming screen door, sneaking out late, tapping on your window.
When we're on the phone and you're talking 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, boy, I said amen, asking God if he could play it again.
I heard every album, listened to the radio, waiting for something to come along
that was as good as our song.
Cause our song is the slamming screen door, sneaking out late, tapping on his 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 and I should have.
And when I got home, boy, I said amen, asking God if he could play it again.
Play it again, oh yeah, oh yeah.
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.