Salt on My Fingers
Style: Piano ballad

[Verse 1]
The bag sits warm between our seats
Salt on my fingers, steam and heat
You tear it open, hand it over
No one's watching, we don't need another

[Pre-chorus]
Nothing about this moment's big
Just warmth and grease and your quick grin
But something in me starts to give

[Chorus]
Quinn, you make the quiet feel like plenty
Passing pretzels, nothing fancy
This is love with the wrapper torn
Simple as the day I was born

[Verse 2]
You laugh with salt still on your chin
I reach for more, you let me win
Windows fogged, the engine humming
This is what I call belonging

[Bridge]
I don't need candlelight or wine
Just your hand passing something mine
The bag goes empty, we stay put
Loving you was never hard work

[Chorus]
Quinn, you make the quiet feel like plenty
Passing pretzels, nothing fancy
This is love with the wrapper torn
Simple as the day I was born

[Outro]
The bag's crushed flat between our seats
Still the warmest place I'll ever be

Free from Songbird: lovesongbirds.com