[Chorus]

Oh, these three wrong words

Oh, that we whisper

Like the rubbing hands

Of tourists in Verona

I just want to love you in my own language

[Verse 1]

There was a wayward lad

Stepped out one morning

The ground to be his bed

The sky his awning

[Verse 2]

Neon, neon, neon

A blue neon light in a midnight country field

Can't surround so you lean on, lean on

So much your hugs become hold ons

[Chorus]

Oh, these three wrong words

Oh, that we whisper

Like the rubbing hands

Of tourists in Verona

I just want to love you in my own language