in a certain row of a garden grove

a lady learns to sleep

while surrounded, not where all the flowers grow

on an empty orchard street

she is dreaming of her holiday

from a working glass menagerie

oh her hands are cold

unimaginable that shes warming up to me

i'm a passerby in a promise land

and i face no direction

somewhere between the towns of lost and found

in the state of confusion

sure our dreaming is pure wonderment

but our feelings are no accident

if my heart is cold it won't forever be,

cause your warming up to me

and fate is not a mission

its an unconditional high

when i saw you in the garden

you reminded me

i can see, the stars are on your shoulders now

and what the wind and your skin have in common

am i taller? Well if feels as though i'm above the ground

you're inviting me to go down

are you warming up?

are you burning up?

warming up to love?

are you warming up tonight?