Sour Milk and Parque Bicentenario

If only we hadn’t been so different It was so right until it turned wrong Like milk gone sour That we had left out the fridge for far too long Maybe that was what it came down to Is that we left our milk on a bench In Parque Bicentenario where we first met No one else existed, everything made sense At least that’s what I said to the nightmares that I dreamt So here I sit writing this With the milk of our relationship long ago thrown out And I think about Parque Bicentenario When I had much, much fewer doubts