[cold intro start, immediately enter into lyrics] [Verse 1] He kept his greenhouse padlocked, Left his front door open wide. Folks came round with gardening questions, Two old hounds asleep inside. I asked him what he grew back there; He said, "Come have a seat. You're the fellow bought that little place At the bottom of the street?" [Chorus] He was a grower, not a show-er, The go-to guy to grow your own. Been growing since the sixties— Even his legend was homegrown. Grew old without quite growing up, Let the summers wander by. If you had a little room to grow, He was the grow-to guy. [Verse 2] By July I'd quit pretending I was there for gardening tips. He grew the finest marijuana, Couldn't roll a joint worth spit. He'd ask about my shift at work, Then listen till the day grew small. We'd put our feet up on the rail And watch the evening shadows crawl. [Bridge] One Sunday I brought my toolbox; His porch step had begun to give. He held the screws and told me stories 'Bout the places he had lived. He gave me his spare greenhouse key: "You can let yourself in." [Final Chorus] He was a grower, not a show-er, The go-to guy to grow your own. Been growing since the sixties— Even his legend was homegrown. Grew old without quite growing up, Let the summers wander by. If you had a little room to grow, He was the grow-to guy. [Outro, almost spoken] He keeps that greenhouse locked at night. There's a spare key here with me. Somewhere between the smoke and stories, He grew on me.
