If you ask me what streets I'm from You'd probably laugh at me You'd expect me to tell you tales Of friends I'd made ran into trouble with And all those sorts of things If you ask me what songs I know You'd raise your hands in the air They're not cool, they're not hip They're not the ones you grew up with And all those sorts of things If you ask about the clothes I swear You wouldn't give the time of day They're not rude, they're not hip They're not ones you would be seen in If you were down to your last penny If you were down to your last penny If you ask about technology You'd roll your eyes in your head I am one of those fundies who keep up So as not to get left behind And all those sorts of things All those sorts of things But ask me about What I know of the original source What I know about what makes you sore When you're out in the world alone Ask me about birds Ask me about flowers Ask me about smiling easily With someone you've only met that day My little brother didn't come to school today The teacher didn't seem to know exactly what to say But I saw him out the window Gold chiffon and pink flamingo Oh, those diamond rings He was younger than I remember Singing glory hallelujah I am free of this All those sorts of things I asked him about What he knew of the original source What he knew about what makes me sore When I'm out in the world alone Asked him about birds Asked him about flowers Asked him about smiling easily With someone he'd only met that day Asked him about groove Asked him about mothers Asked him about sunshine in the streets And faded rain on your windowpane On truth I'll keep you inspired Ask me about the hours in your garden Baby, oh how I loved your face
If you ask me what streets I'm from You'd probably laugh at me You'd expect me to tell you tales Of friends I'd made ran into trouble with And all those sorts of things If you ask me what songs I know You'd raise your hands in the air They're not cool, they're not hip They're not the ones you grew up with And all those sorts of things If you ask about the clothes I swear You wouldn't give the time of day They're not rude, they're not hip They're not ones you would be seen in If you were down to your last penny If you were down to your last penny If you ask about technology You'd roll your eyes in your head I am one of those fundies who keep up So as not to get left behind And all those sorts of things All those sorts of things But ask me about What I know of the original source What I know about what makes you sore When you're out in the world alone Ask me about birds Ask me about flowers Ask me about smiling easily With someone you've only met that day My little brother didn't come to school today The teacher didn't seem to know exactly what to say But I saw him out the window Gold chiffon and pink flamingo Oh, those diamond rings He was younger than I remember Singing glory hallelujah I am free of this All those sorts of things I asked him about What he knew of the original source What he knew about what makes me sore When I'm out in the world alone Asked him about birds Asked him about flowers Asked him about smiling easily With someone he'd only met that day Asked him about groove Asked him about mothers Asked him about sunshine in the streets And faded rain on your windowpane On truth I'll keep you inspired Ask me about the hours in your garden Baby, oh how I loved your face
