I do not dedicate this to you
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it's not for you
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I'm going to write off this tip
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Maybe tomorrow I don't have anything and I feel adrenaline
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I don't know if I write for love or ruin
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But I am clear that this tickle hallucinates me
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If this moment is worth a thousand, I earn zero
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I prescribe musical medicine to the whole world
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This energy is not felt by anyone
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Truly my world revolves around your planet
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If they shout at me, I will applaud the spontaneous
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If they whistle, I'll work to please in another year
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Or not, because there are sounds that fly
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And minds that rest to the relief of another sphere
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Come on, let's go to the edge that counts
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We'll kill Peter Pans, we'll kidnap Cinderellas
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I live from this because I feel its attraction
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I sell two thousand and I always have a song
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I am not going to talk to you about good or bad
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We will avoid nonsense, we will silence their shots
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I live from this because I feel passion
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When the movie starts after the blackout
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I live from this because without this I die
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The cure, the mending of the soul is not given by money
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I don't know if I hope you understand what I feel |
My inventions and the magic of taking it in here
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I live from this because without this I die
|
The cure, the mending of the soul is not given by money
|
I don't know if I hope you understand what I feel
|
My inventions and the magic of taking it in here
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I go back to your city and no, I don't find it strange
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I don't feel sorry either because I'll be back tomorrow
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I am a poet who writes to life
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And the letter is lost and will never be answered
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I've seen faces that respond to trauma
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With money you can buy the look and not the soul
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I've wanted to be and I'm all you see
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The music encourages me and I surrender at its feet
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And if I get caught up in an idea
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I make the ugly put on makeup and smile whatever it is
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Sometimes it stops and needs gas
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Because he lives on adventures and drowns in the routine
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It's a party every day in my bed
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If I put on another beat and write to the edge of tomorrow
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I live to tran-tran because I live from this
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His beat, his push, his whipping and his arrest
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I will not be stupid, I want to live
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Move to my planet, write and feel
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Being born and dying when I write another song |
In my house I burn and the concerts fill me up
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I live from this because without this I die
|
The cure, the mending of the soul is not given by money
|
I don't know if I hope you understand what I feel
|
My inventions and the magic of taking it in here
|
I live from this because without this I die
|
The cure, the mending of the soul is not given by money
|
I don't know if I hope you understand what I feel
|
My inventions and the magic of taking it in here |