| Oh, the streets of Rome are filled with rubble, | |
| ancient footprints are everywhere. | |
| You could almost think that you're seeing double, | |
| On the cold, dark night on the Spanish Stairs. | |
| Gotta hurry on back to my hotel room, | |
| Where I got me a date with a pretty little girl from Greece. | |
| She promised she'd be there with me, | |
| When I paint my masterpiece. | |
| Oh, the hours we spent, inside the Coliseum. | |
| Dodging lions, and a-wasting time, | |
| oh those mighty kings of the jungle, I could hardly stand to see 'em | |
| Yes it sure has been a long, hard drive. | |
| Train wheels a-running thru the back of my memory, | |
| When I ran on a hilltop following a pack of wild geese, | |
| Someday everything is gonna sound like a rhapsody | |
| When I paint my masterpiece. | |
| Sailing round the world in a dirty gondola, | |
| Oh to be back in the land of, Coca-cola. | |
| Well I left Rome, and landed in Brussels, | |
| On a plane ride so bumpy that I almost cried, | |
| Clergy men in uniform, and young girls pulling mussels, | |
| Everyone was there to greet me when I stepped inside, | |
| Newspaper men eating candy, | |
| Had to be held down by big police. | |
| Someday, its gonna be different, | |
| When I paint my masterpiece. |
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