| This year at Christmas I wanted to escape
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| I was no longer able to endure
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| My wife who smelled like vegetable broth
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| And the dog pissing on the newspaper
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| The fact is that I often get the Magone at Christmas
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| With the lights, the crib and all those people
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| With gift packs, with faces all the same
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| With the bite always in his mouth like a herd of pigs
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| Think about how beautiful it was
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| Tonight thirty years ago
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| The light of another star
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| The light of another age
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| And I keep dreaming of that house by the sea
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| With the beach and a boat to go fishing
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| A few tropical fish or old seafaring stories
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| Of shooting stars that become flashes
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| But the sea here is only this stupid salad
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| Yet another course of yet another dinner
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| Farfalle with salmon, sparkling wine and panettone
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| The perfumed boys waiting for the party
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| Think about how beautiful you were
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| That night twenty years ago
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| That full moon night
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| Only naivety
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| What remains?
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| Wives, children, fantasies
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| Maybe it's time to go
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| Run and run away
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| But then you stop for a second and stay like that
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| To think that the worst is over, one step away from here
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| This year at Christmas I wanted to die
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| Then I saw the timetable and went to sleep
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| I turned off the light and the comet
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| After the holidays I will go on a diet
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| Mm-mm-mm-mmh
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| Wives, children, fantasies
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| Maybe it's time to go
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| Run and run away
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| But then you stop for a second and stay like that
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| To think that the worst is over, one step away from here
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| Uh-uh-uh
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| Uh-uh-uh-uh-uuh |