| Many years ago a child was born
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| in a cage filled with senseless scorn
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| and the first day he went to school
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| he soon realized he had to do with fools.
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| All of the classmates had no doubts at all,
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| he was a real danger for such brilliant club.
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| So, after a while the teacher too
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| began to cut him off from her cool classroom.
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| And the lawns were flowering in the magic springtime air
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| no one could ever imagine that the grey hand of despair
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| was about to take our hero in its arms and after that
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| the world wouldn’t have been the same any longer, any more.
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| I remember that a little girl went on the swings
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| and the horizon was a legend flood with flaming rays.
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| Every echo, every whisper had a charming paint to show off,
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| but a twist of fate laid in ambush in that enchanted world.
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| After some time the boy realized
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| music was the only thing able to drive
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| his days to that shiny wonderland
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| he was dreaming about… in his battered bed.
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| So he started writing bizarre tunes,
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| months and years were passing under the fair moon,
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| while squirrels and fireflies scampered 'round
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| and the boy was setting his debut show for 'em, proud.
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| Then, one day, the lizard postman rang of the door bell,
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| finally an agreement came from a major and you can
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| you can easily imagine how happy the child was,
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| all his efforts went to get. |
| such a glittering snappy award!
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| After a few years a bad sensation gained ground
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| was it just a nightmare or a merciless bell’s sound?
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| He realized that all the members of his label had worn a mask
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| as in real they were the guys he met in the schooldays past.
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| So he killed them all in a good mood,
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| then he got back to the magic wood.
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| Every night a song from the death row…
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| squirrels, fireflies and the young girl didn’t let him alone
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| «I'm not sorry» (6)
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| while they’re waiting with a tender smile their last dawn. |