Sean Rowe Gas Station Rose
Well we can't have a garden while we're still on the road
There's only room on the dash for a gas station rose
You know that when I shut up I got something to say
I was looking at you, you were looking away
At least we dodged the New York winter...
Well maybe the mountain in our eyes
Looks more like a molehill from the other side
We are the elders of our minds
We're on our own
We're on our own
Another year gone by like the signs on the street
Highway seventy-five, Nebraska flat as a sheet
Living out of the trunk, we bounce around like a dream
Another major drawback, another sweet in between
At least we're both confused together...
But maybe the mountain in our eyes
Looks more like a molehill from the other side
We are the elders of our minds
We're on our own
We're on our own
Maybe the mountain in our eyes
Looks more like a molehill from the other side
We are the elders of our minds
We're on our own
And maybe the mountain in our eyes
Looks more like a molehill from the other side
We are the elders of our minds
We're on our own
We're on our own