| And I look out the window and I see that usual wall that you know
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| Cigarette or pen in my right hand, frivolous symbols you never loved;
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| You never liked what I'm wearing, I tell and tell and I seem dumb
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| Smoking and writing sounds strange to you, better the hands of a craftsman
|
| And erasing me is all you do;
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| But I am proud of my dreaming, of this eternal stumbling of mine
|
| And I laugh at what you are looking for and what you will never have!
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| You don't know that it takes science, it takes constancy, to grow old without maturity
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| But mature or not I have had enough of your complex simplicity
|
| But then who said you are right, with your "also sprach" of maturation
|
| Or is it an illusion ready for use as an eternal victim of abuse
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| Abuse of a closed world and fatality;
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| Everyone goes where he wants to go, everyone ages as he pleases
|
| But don't tell me what freedom is!
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| The freedom of your potions, yoga, herbs, psyche and homeopathy
|
| Of manuals against the frustrations, the inhibitions that you felt here in my house
|
| The boredom given by an unfamiliar, who does not have the pulse of a mathematician
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| Who does not know how to do with engines and who does not even know how to drive
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| A type lost behind the clouds and poetry
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| But now I bet you want to try what you didn't want to do with me:
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| Making love, staying up late or the fantasy!
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| Fantasy can be bad if you don't know how to tame it
|
| But it's cheap, it's worth what it's worth, and no one can stop you from using it anymore;
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| I, God willing, am not your father, I don't even have square balls
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| You have the fantasy of twisted ideas, go with the mind and short legs
|
| Then you will always have the right time to fix it:
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| The ways of the world are open to you, so your back is always covered
|
| And you will always have a good excuse to refuse it!
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| You were a genius to refuse, wasting your time refusing me
|
| But there is no alibi, there is no remedy, if I look carefully no, there is no why;
|
| Born in March, born crazy, chaste who dreams of being a whore
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| When you are inside you want to be outside always looking for past loves
|
| And you canceled all but you
|
| But here I nail you to those thoughts of yours, those four rags in which you have
|
| thrown yesterday
|
| Lost forever seeking what is not there
|
| Here I nail you to those thoughts of yours, those four rags in which you have
|
| thrown yesterday
|
| Lost forever seeking what is not there
|
| Here I nail you to those thoughts of yours, those four rags in which you have
|
| thrown yesterday
|
| Lost forever seeking what is not there ... |