I put a flower in his suitcase so he'll never be alone
I'm a widow of my word
He's a lover of a loan
I want boys who whisper in the same way he wants girls who scream
And I think he loves me for it
We don't know where it's going
But ain't it nice to know (ain't it nice to know)
I'll be here in the morning
Before I give you up and go
He's the boy who sweeps
Flowers in the parking lot
He's the boy who sweeps
Flowers in the parking lot
And he don't stop (he's the boy)
For nobody (who sweeps)
Not even for you (flowers in the parking lot)
But he might smell (he's the boy)
The roses (who sweeps)
On your neck and forget what he's come to collect, a moment or two
And brush his finger across all the time that she lost thinking of you (thinking of you)
He only wants to love (he's the boy)
And drink wine in the sun (who sweeps)
With one thousand lips telling him he is the one (flowers in the parking lot)
He leans his guitar (he's the boy)
Against his tired amp (who sweeps)
A wall of noise hits his heart and hinders his ear (flowers in the parking lot)
And when you pull away (and he don't stop)
He invites you to share (for nobody)
A story or two from his suburban nightmare (not even for you)
For all the times (but he might smell the roses)
You spent with your head on his chest (on your neck and forget what he's come to collect)
He was counting the ways to forget (a moment or too)
He was counting the ways (and brush his finger across all the time that he lost)
To forget (thinking of you)
Thinking of you