To hold in constraint
Makes for a bad romance
The mold that your paint
Will still spread aroma
Of all of the bridges
We thought lead to Roma
None stand today
It was all una broma
Joke was on me
Cuando una paloma
Told me the sea
Was a piso de goma
And longing I stared
At a sky made in chroma
Oh boy was I scared
To have run out of tomas
