Our song

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 and I 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 door,

Sneaking out late, tapping on your window.

When we're on the phone and you talk real slow

because 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, 'fore I said amen

asking God if he could play it again