| He's the one who comes home drunk almost every night
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| And that silence between us that seems to never end
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| When I undress it. |
| I dress him up and then put him to bed
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| And those letters that he writes and then he doesn't know how to send me ...
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| Maybe leaving him on the stairs is a way to save me
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| And you that you took in hand
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| The thread of my wooden train
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| That to be bigger I had pledged:
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| And I kissed you on the smile so as not to hurt you
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| And I shot you in the mouth instead of kissing you
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| Why was not the time to leave you too long:
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| You may not know it but this is love too
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| And the dawn on the Danube seemed to Marco phosphorus and honey
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| And a blonde girl maybe she wanted to tell him
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| That man is great, man is alive
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| Man is not war;
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| But the generals reply that man is wine
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| He fights well and dies better
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| Only when he's full
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| And the first said «Ah yes
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| Don't you want to buy our newspaper ?! "
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| And the others "We keep him still just to talk"
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| And I thought - now I say "I'm a fascist too" -
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| But with every punch that came straight to the head
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| My fear was not enough to make me say enough
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| You may not know it but this is love too
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| And the biggest
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| It conquered nation after nation
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| And when he was facing the sea he felt like a jerk
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| Why further
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| Nothing could be achieved:
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| And a long way to see a desperate sun
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| It is always the same and always
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| Bello the hero with blue eyes straight above the ship
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| He has more wounds than battles, and he has the key
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| He has crucifixes and scythes in his hand and bla bla bla brothers
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| And I raised you daughter to see it better
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| I'm not leaving and I'm looking at you
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| And that I stay awake
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| You may not know it but this is love too |