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
Look around, turn the radio down, he says, baby, something's wrong
I say nothing, I was just thinking how we don't have a song
And he says, our song is a slip-screen door, it's sticking out way top and on your window
Well, 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 left the first day that 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 out the front porch steps after everything that day
I'd gone gone and wrong, I'd been trampled on and lost and thrown away
I 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 a slip-screen door, it's sticking out way top and on your window
Well, 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 left the first day that 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
And I've heard her every album, listened to the radio
Waiting for something to come along that was as good as our song
Cause our song is a slip-screen door, it's sticking out way top and on his window
Well, 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 left the first day that 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
Oh, oh, play it again, yeah, yeah, yeah, oh, yeah, yeah, oh
I was wearing a 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