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andrea gibson - radio كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: jesse thomas]
i am this, the only one
it’s enough
i know where i’m going, to which sh0r-
and you know
only love is all maroon
[?] is one, a fool
sky is only, she’s the moon

[verse 2: andrea gibson, spoken monologue]
turning the dial of the radio in my car
running to the rain in a dress
slicing up a coddles in the kitchen
sleeping in the guestroom of my house
biting her lip at my bedroom door
sweet as a tourist at a slot machine hungry as a last bet
peeling an orange on my front step saying, “only love is all maroon”
putting up my pickup lines
picking her t–th with a hook
flipping off the mistletoe
slipping her hand down my jeans on the bus
trimming her fingernails on my mother’s couch
winking, then blowing me a kiss
offering me an apple, daring me to demand the orchard
insisting me i come from her rib
burning through the sugarcoat, burning out my clutch
topless in the car, telling me to keep my eyes on the road
her knuckles between my t–th
her law on my side
pulling me over to teach me the respectable way to tear up a permission slip, dropping it like rose petals on her way up the stairs
taking the mirror off the bedroom wall
breaking my fever with the slide of her hips
kicking my legs from out under my doubt, loose as a cannon fighting for our honors
swinging for the picket fence naked and the dugout
waking me from a nightmare
hanging my past like a sail
wiping the sweat from my forehead
whispering, “we can go anywhere”
holding my hand on the plane, wearing my hoodie to the store, breaking up a bar fight by calling my name
running her fingers through my hair in a restaurant in the midwest
walking to the cemetery in my hometown, fixing the flowers on a stranger’s grave
holding my hand while i carry our dog to the vet
holding the latter while i hang up our wreath
hollering from the porch to come look at the sky
hollering from my bedroom to come zip up her dress
looking up from her book to say, “listen to this line”
asking for my number every time we kiss, stopping me from carving our initials into a tree, whispering everything that grows already knows who we are
in her underwear, eating an ice cream on our roof
in her nightgown, filling a bird feeder in our backyard
and nothing but our sweat on the living room floor
turning the dial of our radio, saying, “baby, listen
you haven’t heard this song before”

- andrea gibson

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