I bring you plates from Rome
You say they look fantastic
I say we're having fun
Nothing like that Italian plastic
I bring you rocks and flowers
You say they look pathetic
You pick me up at night
I don't feel pathetic
When you wake up with me
I'll be your glass of water
When you stick up for me
Then you're my Bella Bambina
Chorus repeat
Then I'll be, your Bella Bambino,
Your man from the moon,
I'll be your little boy running with, that egg on his spoon
I'll be your soul survivor
Your worst wicked friend,
I'll be your piggy in the middle
Stick with you till the end
Chorus repeat
Writer(s): Neil Mullane Finn, Tim Finn
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