Lyrics
[Verse 1] [Vocal: low female alto/contralto; smoky, close-mic, conversational; sitting behind the beat] There’s a glass sweating rings on the porch rail, And a jar of wildflowers going pale. Picked ’em where the old road meets the creek, Where you kissed me once— Then forgot how to speak. [Brief pause] Funny what a woman learns to keep. [Pre-Chorus] [Vocal: melody opens slightly; ache held under control] I could pour that bottle in the river, Let those little yellow petals die. But leaving ain’t the same as letting go, And goodbye don’t always mean goodbye. [Chorus] [Vocal: warm soul phrasing; stretch the title naturally; slight rasp on emotional peaks] Whiskey and wildflowers, Bitter on my tongue, sweet in my hands. One burns going down, One grew where we used to stand. I’ve said I’m over you so many times It almost sounds like truth. So here’s to whiskey… And wildflowers… And a little less of you. [Verse 2] [Vocal: darker conversational delivery; blues inflections at phrase endings] Your old chair still leans against the wall, Funny—I don’t notice it much at all. That photograph stays facedown by the window; I know your smile by memory. Don’t need to turn it over. [Pause] Knowing someone by heart Don’t mean they belong there. [Pre-Chorus 2] [Vocal: restrained rise; increasingly soulful without increasing volume] I quit waiting for your headlights, Quit listening for your key. But learning how to live alone Ain’t the same as being free. [Chorus] [Vocal: slightly fuller; subtle melodic variation] Whiskey and wildflowers, Bitter on my tongue, sweet in my hands. One burns going down, One grew where we used to stand. I’ve said I’m over you so many times It almost sounds like truth. So here’s to whiskey… And wildflowers… And a little less of you. [Bridge] [Vocal: nearly spoken initially; naked, unhurried phrasing] Tonight I poured one finger, Then poured half of it away. Took those flowers from the window, Pulled the dead ones from the vase. [Long pause] Funny thing about wildflowers— Cut ’em down, They find another place. [Final Chorus] [Vocal: emotional release through tone and phrasing, never a power belt] Whiskey and wildflowers, Bitter on my tongue, sweet in my hands. One burns going down— One grows wherever it can. I’ve said I’m over you so many times, Tonight it might be true. So here’s to whiskey… And wildflowers… And finally— Less of you. [Outro] [Vocal: extremely close and nearly spoken] Tomorrow… I think I’ll pick some new. [Long pause] Yeah… That’ll do.