Like a rookie in a game I've been playing for years,
getting lost on a path that always seemed so clear.

Searching for some clues or some evidence,
I'm looking out to the streets of Providence.

You're eight shots of tequilla without the lime;
I try to pay for your tab but I'm short a dime.

I keep trying but failing, grasping not prevailing.
Donde esta? Yo no se na!