Her name was mona
I’m not a bad fella,Don’t usually kiss and tella,But some sparks burn so fast,Gotta catch ‘em while they last.
Met this girl in Barcelona,Eyes pulled me deeper than the tale of Jonah.Smile said she didn’t wanna be alone,So I sat right down, turned off my phone.
Her friend Lisa ditched her in Pisa,Ran off quick with a guy from Ibiza.She had roots back home in Madrid,But her Family had settled in Berlin.
We toasted sunset, shared a Paloma,Said yes to pizza later on in Verona.Her favorite jam was “Supernova,”That’s when I knew my night was far from over.
How could her parents know,When they named her long ago?She’s a moaner, steals the show,A star that shines when the lights turn low.
How could her parents see,What her name would come to be?She’s a moaner, wild and free,A fire that burns when she’s with me.
Her body built in a day? No way,Like an art piece sculpted in Pompeii.She rode me fierce like the bulls in Pamplona,Whispered sins I’d never tell the Pope in Roma.
Every touch lit her fuse like a shaken Corona,Eyes rolled back — I was her Casanova.That night she begged down south in Bologna,Good Lord…I was lost, she was taking me over.
How could her parents guess,The fire she’d confess?She’s a moaner, nothing less,A queen who rules in the dark, undressed.
How could her parents see,What her name would come to be?She’s a moaner, wild and free,A storm that breaks all over me.
We laughed in Lisbon, kissed in Cologne,Turned every night into a city she owned.Every stop was a spark, every kiss a flame,And I never once cared if she told me her name.
She gave me her soul through the nights in Europa,But never her name, never whispered it over.A mystery burning, a lover, a loner…And when the lights went out,Without a doubt… Her name had to be…Mona.
Met this girl in Barcelona,Eyes pulled me deeper than the tale of Jonah.Smile said she didn’t wanna be alone,So I sat right down, turned off my phone.
Her friend Lisa ditched her in Pisa,Ran off quick with a guy from Ibiza.She had roots back home in Madrid,But her Family had settled in Berlin.
We toasted sunset, shared a Paloma,Said yes to pizza later on in Verona.Her favorite jam was “Supernova,”That’s when I knew my night was far from over.
How could her parents know,When they named her long ago?She’s a moaner, steals the show,A star that shines when the lights turn low.
How could her parents see,What her name would come to be?She’s a moaner, wild and free,A fire that burns when she’s with me.
Her body built in a day? No way,Like an art piece sculpted in Pompeii.She rode me fierce like the bulls in Pamplona,Whispered sins I’d never tell the Pope in Roma.
Every touch lit her fuse like a shaken Corona,Eyes rolled back — I was her Casanova.That night she begged down south in Bologna,Good Lord…I was lost, she was taking me over.
How could her parents guess,The fire she’d confess?She’s a moaner, nothing less,A queen who rules in the dark, undressed.
How could her parents see,What her name would come to be?She’s a moaner, wild and free,A storm that breaks all over me.
We laughed in Lisbon, kissed in Cologne,Turned every night into a city she owned.Every stop was a spark, every kiss a flame,And I never once cared if she told me her name.
She gave me her soul through the nights in Europa,But never her name, never whispered it over.A mystery burning, a lover, a loner…And when the lights went out,Without a doubt… Her name had to be…Mona.