Florence, you're the rock
on which I build my church
Visible renaissance
The sewage and the rocks
Ancient aching trees that creep and lurch
Number 7 bus
Speeding up and down
Of thee I'll always sing
Electric and pristine
Pushing all the Fiats out of bounds
Giardino's been corrupt
From gypsies and their cups
Block the flower hawks
Stuck like sidewalk chalk
Florence, hold your empty wallets up
Shoes, shoes, shoes
Leather, ice cream, shoes
David's baby dick
to every surface sticks
To plastics and ceramics it's infused
Firenze, la
belli, belli, belli, bellicima
Sto da
favo, favo, favo, favola
Tourist in disguise
Walk the girls to school
Ageless in her face
A frame that I can't trace
Fake I'm not a fat and foreign fool
I can't help but believe
My rug is being tugged
Eaten up by art
Perspective torn apart
The line-defining leaves me shoulder-shrugged
With the Arno in the sun
Sun inside my eyes
Drippy-eyed at this
Aesthetic catalyst
I can't help but lift my lids and cry
Crying through a kiss
The old breath of the square
A marble house of God
800 years at odds
Holds me in it's palms to sing a prayer
Firenze, la
belli, belli, belli, bellicima
Sto da
favo, favo, favo, favola