Whoa-ooh, we don't talk about Bruno, no, no, no
We don't talk about Bruno (ah, no oh, no, no, no, no)
It was my wedding day (it was our wedding day)
We were getting ready
And there wasn't a cloud in the sky (no clouds allowed in the sky)
Bruno walks in with a mischievous grin (thunder)
You telling this story or am I?
I'm sorry, mi vida, go on
Bruno says it looks like rain (why did he tell us?)
And doing so, he floods my brain (abuela, get the umbrellas)
Married in a hurricane (what a joyous day but, anyway)
We don't talk about Bruno, no, no, no
We don't (we don't) talk about Bruno, no, no, no
Hey
Grew to live in fear of Bruno stuttering or stumbling
I can always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling (I hear, ooh-ooh)
I associate him with the sound of falling sand
Tss, tss
It's a heavy lift with a gift so humbling
Always left abuela and the family fumbling
Grappling with prophecies they couldn't understand
Do you understand?
Seven-foot frame
Rats (on) along his back
When he calls your name
It all fades to black
Yeah, he sees all your dreams (dreams)
And feasts on your screams
We don't talk about Bruno, no no
We don't talk about Bruno
He told me my fish would die
The next day, dead (oh, no)
He told me I'd grow a gut
And just like he said
He said that all of my hair would disappear
Now look at my head
Your fate is sealed when your prophesy is read
He told me that the life of my dreams
Would be promised, and some day be mine
He told me that my power would grow
Like the grapes that thrive on the vine
(Óye, Mariano's on his way)
He told me that the man of my dreams
Would be just out of reach
Betrothed to another
It's like I hear him now (hey sis)
I want not a sound out of you
(I can hear him)
Uhm, Bruno
Yeah, about that Bruno (Bruno)
I really need to know about Bruno
Give me the truth and the whole truth, Bruno (Bruno)
Isabella, your boyfriend's here (time for dinner)
Seven-foot frame
The rats along his back (aah)
He calls your name
It all fades to black (no clouds allowed in the sky)
Yeah, he sees your dreams
And feasts on your screams
We don't talk about Bruno, no, no
Bruno says it looks like rain (grew to live in fear of Bruno stuttering or stumbling)
Why did he tell us? (I can always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling)
When he calls your name, it all (I associate him with the sound of falling sand)
Abuela, get the umbrellas
He sees your dreams (married in a hurricane)
And feasts on your screams (always left abuela and the family fumbling)
He's here
Don't talk about Bruno (why did I talk about Bruno?)
Not a word about Bruno (never should have brought up Bruno)
No