| It is the dissatisfaction that assails me
|
| Wont let me
|
| So I look for the answers to the questions
|
| Of life
|
| And it turns out that one evening
|
| Behind the other
|
| With this story continuing
|
| With this restless soul
|
| It is capable of opening up
|
| New horizons
|
| A passion that makes me sleepy
|
| And heart maybe
|
| I wanted a revolution
|
| For the moment
|
| I make movement
|
| For the movement
|
| Metro stop Bologna
|
| With the poster in his pocket
|
| In face
|
| A cold breath
|
| Me and NCOT
|
| Lost in the changes
|
| Of the night
|
| We walk without haste
|
| Control and awareness
|
| Control and awareness
|
| I repeat in my head
|
| Living is difficult
|
| And here it is easy
|
| It rains it rains smell
|
| A wet road in the air
|
| The climate of a city square
|
| Racist and indifferent
|
| As Rome knows how to be
|
| In the very familiar face
|
| Of my fellow citizens
|
| It is conflict
|
| For us who don't want borders
|
| Nor a false word
|
| As "tolerance"
|
| We could all be richer
|
| But who does not think of himself
|
| And to his little quiet idyll
|
| It takes a turning point
|
| Something strong is needed
|
| In movement
|
| And it turns out that one evening
|
| Behind the other
|
| With this story continuing
|
| It goes that one evening after another
|
| It is capable of opening up
|
| New horizons
|
| A passion that tears me apart
|
| Sleep and heart maybe
|
| A passion that tears me apart
|
| Sleep and heart
|
| A serious movement
|
| With a full nursery
|
| No to the day
|
| Not a private war
|
| People waiting read sports
|
| In various newspapers
|
| The radio inside the bar
|
| It just sends absurd
|
| Italian music
|
| Like "Oedipus and his animals about him"
|
| It is long
|
| But a war is fought
|
| One battle at a time
|
| Like the soul of a game
|
| Which sometimes does not have a logical thread
|
| The future comes upon us today
|
| Continuously
|
| Everything changes
|
| But these empty pockets
|
| And the stressful lack of money
|
| They never leave me alone
|
| As I move
|
| In a neighborhood like this
|
| And for this neighborhood
|
| A little healthy fighting
|
| They always do well
|
| A movement pushes forward
|
| All time
|
| Although sometimes
|
| It almost seems
|
| That we can stay
|
| All in one room
|
| Like Visone and his of him during
|
| The resistance
|
| And it turns out that one evening
|
| Behind the other
|
| With this story continuing
|
| It goes that one evening after another
|
| It is capable of opening up
|
| New horizons
|
| A passion that tears me apart
|
| Sleep and heart maybe
|
| A passion that tears me apart
|
| Sleep and heart
|
| I wanted a revolution
|
| For the moment
|
| I make movement
|
| For the movement |