Tourist hug in photos at the fountain by my flat
Me and trying my best not to worry about work and all of that
So I listen to Franklin Bruno spout out words I could never dream
And wrack my brains trying to figure out what they mean

My mind wonders, my feet ponder, my thoughts ask me
Are you really all alone?

Now it's two weeks later, I'm a tourist writing sad songs by the pool
And for a change I've not drunk too much or fucked up and acted the fool
So I listen to Franklin Bruno spout out words I could never dream
And wrack my brains trying to figure out what they mean