All Of The Rooms That We Filled With Our Love

She was a beauty, a little bit quaint
Bohemian dreams and a poet's ink-stains
I was annoyed, I was reading my book
Hiding away in the library, but
She interrupted and never looked back
I was embarrassed and now we both laugh
Thinking about those Jr. High days
When we were young, setting hallways ablaze
Glory me, don't these years float on by?
Glory me, my love
Glory me, don't these years float on by?
Glory me, my love
My love
My love
I wrote you songs that still make me cringe
But you fell asleep to them up in your room
Thinking about all the babies we'd have
And all of the rooms that we'd fill with our love
Glory me, don't these years float on by?
Glory me, my love
Glory me, don't these years float on by?
Glory me, my love
My love
My love
Now I'll write you songs while I'm watching you cook
And later we'll dance to them up in our room
Singing about all the babies we made
And all of the rooms that we filled with our love