| Today I am not going to sing to the sun, nor to the sea
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| Not to the stars, not to dollhouses
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| Today I just want to tell how I feel
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| I'm living a day in black and white
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| So, don't come to me to talk about love
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| 'Cause I'm a monument to moodiness
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| And my smile was always a bad actress
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| How can a city be so grey?
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| There is no light at home but with the candle it is enough
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| To lighten my bitterness, two or three stitches
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| There is no light at home but with the candle it is enough
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| And in a setback to my destiny, one of these days I'll cheer up
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| Today there are no metaphors, I'm going to be honest
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| Things are not going my way
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| It is an afternoon in which I feel that a party
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| It would be sleeping thirty-five years a nap
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| Every now and then I fall into these holes
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| I ask permission the humor that I always have
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| I am a thousand sugar for a single salt
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| I have the right to feel bad one day
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| There is no light at home but with the candle it is enough
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| To lighten my bitterness, two or three stitches
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| And in a setback to my destiny, one of these days I'll cheer up
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| I'm going to live in the mountains
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| Where everything is little, but still enough
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| I'm going to live in the mountains
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| And let the sun wake me up in the morning
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| I'm going to live in the mountains
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| Where everything is little, but still enough
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| I'm going to live in the mountains
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| And let the sun wake me up in the morning
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| I'm going to live in the mountains
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| And let the sun wake me up in the morning
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| (Not like in the city where the sun tells you:
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| Go to sleep…) |