in the thirteenth row of a garden grove
a lady learns to sleep
while surrounded, now where all the flowers grow
otherwise an empty orchard street
she is dreaming of her holiday
from a working class menagerie
and her hands are cold
unimaginable
how shes warming up to me
oh she was

i'm a passerby in a promise land
and i face no direction
oh in a state somewhere between the towns of lost and found
in the state of confusion
showed our dreaming is pure wonderment
but our feelings are no accident
if a heart is cold it won't forever be,
cause she's warming up to loving me

fate is not a mission
its an unconditional high
when i saw you in the garden
you reminded me
i can see the stars on your shoulders now
and what the wind and your skin have in common
in my town, well if feels as though i'm above the ground
you keep inviting me to go down

are you warming up
are you burning up
warming up to love
are you warming up to loving