I've been thinking I should write some kind of love song for you.
To prove to you I do.
It shouldn't be too hard to write.
I'll just think of that time I first saw you in Omaha.
You were stranded on Jackson with bus fare to who knows where.
I took you in right then and there.
And life took on a new form;
No more staying out all night,
No more killing ourselves just to make ourselves feel alright.
No more sleeping with strangers and those awkward goodbyes.
I've never had much family,
Never had too many friends-
Then you came wandering through.
And pompously, I took you for granted;
That's why I gotta write this little love song for you.
I'll sing about those Denver mornings you'd wake up bawling about a long lost kid.
Your maternal instincts were kicking in.
As the sun dazzled bright upon the peaks,
You brought home a dog you found in the alley.
You said, "Can we keep her?"
I said, "What kind of man would I be?"
So, you bought her a collar and called her family.
Writers are selfish, writers are egotists;
I'm afraid I'm as bad as it gets.
I keep forgetting to censor the truth,
That's why I better write some kind of love song for you.
Driving cross country in a U-Haul,
On the hunt for our new home.
High atop Eagle Rock,
We found a house with a big backyard.
So, we picked up yet another mutt
From the Crenshaw pound.
Sipping coffee on the porch
While the dogs wrestle on the lawn...
I'm sorry I've had my doubts.
We're a family of strays
But together we've been found.