Maria was a lovely lady from Venezuela Who arrived in the Lower East Side Four months prior to our engagement Long, thick flowing black hair And not a single care in the world She bought me a macchiato and I bit my tongue Her aromas blew my mind We just didn't know where to look As we waited for the world to turn Tomorrow we'd find ourselves waiting idly Waiting ideally Hunting and prowling and panting like nomads Bespoke, beautiful, youthful and broke Seems love's own worst enemy is within us all It's that trying sound that keeps you awake at night Nagging and burrowing deep beneath your irregular, misshapen heart Beat The nomads to the light