| They are right, they are right
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| They told me everything she does is old
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| You talk about vice women
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| They want this if they haven't already understood it
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| And what do I tell him? |
| look I can not
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| When I loved, I loved inside his eyes
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| Maybe even in his arms
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| But I've always cried for his happiness
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| Lights at San Siro that evening
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| What's strange we've all been there
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| Remember the game inside the fog
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| You hide and if I find you I love you there
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| But you're cheating, you're screaming
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| That's not the case, it's too easy that way
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| Find you, love you, play time
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| On the dead grass with the cold here
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| But time migrates, they got me in the way
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| I am no longer capable of saying a single no
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| I see you and sometimes I would like to tell you
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| But what are these people around us doing
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| Make my life, make your life
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| So sooner or later it had to end there
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| You laughed and maybe you had a flower
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| I didn't understand you, you never understood me
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| Write Vecchioni, write songs
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| The more you write, the better you are and do damage
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| So much so that it matters to those who listen to them
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| If she has been there or not and who she is
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| Get paid, stand up for it
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| The more you lower your head, the more they say yes
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| And if your hands are dirty, what does it matter
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| Keep them closed no one will know
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| My Milan take me away
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| It's so cold and disgusting and I can't take it anymore
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| Let's make a change, take that little bit of money as well
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| That little bit of stardom
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| But give me my six hundred back
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| My twenties and a girl you know
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| Milan sorry I was joking
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| Lights at San Siro will no longer turn on |