We walk through the dusty streets
Passing houses and churches and playful children
We happen upon a little shop
It sells art from the region
We browse through the brilliant works
Of countless artists, past and present
You hold my hand
As we breathe in the history
Of this art and this shop;
This city and this country;
Of us
We buy a small token of our visit
To this little corner of the world
The old man working tells you how beautiful you are
I guarantee — in all his years —
He's never said something so true
Passing houses and churches and playful children
We happen upon a little shop
It sells art from the region
We browse through the brilliant works
Of countless artists, past and present
You hold my hand
As we breathe in the history
Of this art and this shop;
This city and this country;
Of us
We buy a small token of our visit
To this little corner of the world
The old man working tells you how beautiful you are
I guarantee — in all his years —
He's never said something so true