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 nothing I was just thinking how we don't have a song. And he says:

“Our song is the slamming screen doors,
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, 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 loving bed. I almost didn't notice all the roses and the note that said:

“Our song is the slamming screen doors,
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, and 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. Waited for something to come along that was as good as our song...

Cause our song is the slamming screen doors,
Sneaking out late, tapping on his window
When we're on the phone and he talk real slow
'cause it's late and his mama don't know
Our song is the way you laugh
The first date "man, I didn't kiss him, and 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.