The sky was falling

But they were still flipping coins around

Their mother calling

But they were still lost and never to be found



It was a world of their own

It was their home

It was a world of their own

It was their Rome



At Rome where films sparked from their fingertips

And paintings splashed from their minds

Where everyday was lunar eclipse

And in the moon there he finds



Her caterpillar, her centipede

Of hundreds of untold stories

And so inside he was freed

Of glorious past and past glories



And there she goes

Climbing the mountain

And there he goes

Waiting at the fountain



They meet and leave

And say profound things

They dance, believe

They are the kings

Of their Rome (x3)



And the sky fell

Their coins were in the air

Dancing as well

To the things they share

Of their days at Rome

And of their home

When mother was still calling

Them.