No Labels, Just Flowers
Track 2 of Spring Fling
[ Lyrics ]
No talk, just roses in my window. You pull up in that beat-up sedan, bouquet in hand, cellophane crinkling like we’re part of a plan. Daisies, not roses — you know I hate the cliché, say nothing, just smirk like you saved the day. Blanket on the grass by the old oak tree, wine in mason jars, California breeze. You kick off your shoes, stretch into the shade, I laugh at the way that you never ask. No ‘where is this going?’, no ‘can we define it?,’ you hand me the stem, I don't even mind it. Silence feels louder than words ever could — you get me, the way most guys just wouldn’t. No labels, just flowers. No timelines, just hours. No promises, no powers — just us in the calm after. No labels, just flowers. No pressure, no vows. Just your hand brushing mine, and the sun on our shoulders. You bring me the kind of joy that doesn’t need a name, like we’re two scenes stolen from the same film frame. I scroll through my phone — no texts from you ‘til now, and that’s the exact kind of space I allow. We talk ‘bout the weather, your dog, my new track, avoid the deep end, stay on the back. You feed me a grape, I pretend it’s a seed, say, ‘plant it right here,’ then laugh at the need. I know what you’re thinking — I’m thinking it too — this could turn heavy, but I’d rather it flew. So we float in the maybe, the what-if, the when — but never step close to ‘could this be the one?’ No labels, just flowers. No timelines, just hours. No promises, no powers — just us in the calm after. No labels, just flowers. No pressure, no vows. Just your hand brushing mine, and the sun on our shoulders. We’re not building castles, just kicking through leaves, not signing contracts, just sipping beliefs. You don’t need my past, I don’t need your plan — we’re two open roads crossing, just for a span. No labels, just flowers. No timelines, just hours. No need to define love — let it breathe in the aftermath. No labels, just flowers. No future to mourn. Just this perfect right now, and the way that you yawn. No talk… just roses in my window.