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?