| We went in the afternoons looking for harmony
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| I discovered the USA and rare magazines
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| You laughed at seeing me big and fat with comics
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| I too smiled more and more discontented
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| Then I wrote your name, pouring slowly on the snow
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| The strange thing that looked like wine
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| I was fascinated by its ruby color
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| Why did you wipe it off with your foot?
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| The mechanical music box is out of stock
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| Only the echo in the distance remains
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| But tell me what you are doing, far away, away in the other room
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| But tell me what you do with your life
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| O evening, come down early! |
| O new world, here comes!
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| Revolution, change something!
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| Cancel the usual grin of this now corroded
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| My weary civilization that drags on
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| Then it suddenly rained on the Amstel, do you remember?
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| You said something smiling
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| I replied, I think, some platitudes too
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| Discovering the charm of a dialogue between the deaf
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| Your grandfather was a great man, famous who knows what
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| They say "he's still smart"
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| He exposed me to gestures and spits that "weltanshauung" his weird
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| Pointing a rose with an index finger
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| Discreet melancholies that do not know how to be secret
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| My little, modest stories
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| That they have never put on the name of poems
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| My friends of all time, you know!
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| Drunkenness already known perhaps too many times
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| During the day I drink the water and do the essay
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| For this, only at night, I have four pennies for a message
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| To scream in the face of those who do not collect it
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| Your stepfather was a well-known musician
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| You met your father at some shows
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| We drank tea on the floor and I liked that merry-go-round
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| Of people in your artist's stories
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| You anxiously confided to me I don't know what secret
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| Saying "woman" and not "the waitress"
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| Your mother had a severe headache that night
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| I was thoughtful, shy, discreet
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| And you in the other room chasing your thoughts
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| Do not believe that there is better around
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| We are like everyone and a little, day after day
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| We waste our today as yesterday
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| But then what does it matter? |
| We have to stick to the pacts
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| I don't want heaven or hell
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| If sometimes I scream in anger, then I forget and get lost
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| In the worlds inside the eyes of my cats
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| We went out a little hot from too much black wine
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| We danced on the street, it was already dawning
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| It looked like an American musical comedy
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| You don't know, but inside I was laughing ... |