Sour Milk and Parque Bicentenario
If only we hadn’t been so different
It was so right until it turned wrong
Like milk gone sour
That we had left out the fridge for far too long
Maybe that was what it came down to
Is that we left our milk on a bench
In Parque Bicentenario where we first met
No one else existed, everything made sense
At least that’s what I said to the nightmares that I dreamt
So here I sit writing this
With the milk of our relationship long ago thrown out
And I think about Parque Bicentenario
When I had much, much fewer doubts
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