| Except that there was in the sea
|
| unsuspecting people
|
| (even the idealists
|
| they swam very well)
|
| and then I changed my skin
|
| and I didn't know and didn't understand that
|
| going in is easy
|
| come back no and how many fish in the ears
|
| now I have the truth in the woods it is
|
| make sense of all trees
|
| and by absurd paths
|
| look for places for strawberries:
|
| but there is always an exit
|
| and I never asked to leave
|
| and how many fish in the ears
|
| now i count them maybe yes
|
| I don't know anymore to take them off And maybe I envy young people
|
| who always know everything already
|
| the true the beautiful the right what
|
| it makes sense and what it doesn't have phrases are made of it
|
| who continuously applaud
|
| their rooms have no walls
|
| this not but to enter it
|
| pay their I know
|
| My friend my friend from Spain
|
| friend man friend freedom
|
| my friend from Greece
|
| friend blood ageless friend
|
| friend i didn't see you
|
| nor looked for a friend sorry
|
| but to love the world as you love it, I had to hate too much
|
| hate a little more
|
| fat bosses always on the lookout
|
| of magical mountains
|
| of religions and filters
|
| and acquittals to defend you
|
| I sell I sell I sell
|
| I sell I sell I am having fish in my ears
|
| what's he doing to you?
|
| they stink already
|
| My friend of song wine
|
| and great alibis
|
| pissed friend done and then
|
| smoked above the tables,
|
| you who are so good that you raise your fist
|
| and be an anarchist
|
| teach me to sing like you sing half a million a night
|
| or lose your virtue
|
| And how many mothers,
|
| mother I superimposed on your image
|
| to return to your womb
|
| with the desire to be small,
|
| not to feel idiot
|
| when I sing and they don't understand,
|
| and how many fish in the ears
|
| now I have,
|
| count them maybe yes
|
| I don't know anymore, my girl, that you are getting old,
|
| slowly like Dorian Gray,
|
| I drew you beard and mustache
|
| to be able to tell me that
|
| the lights of San Siro were just my business,
|
| I said in my hands how many dreams I have, do you want to count them with me?
|
| Alone I don't know my love today
|
| you are the gaffe of someone else like me he had noticed that I was selling air
|
| at very high prices
|
| and when he shot me
|
| he did it to defend himself
|
| yes but the ball
|
| from the head does not go away
|
| and he is big now
|
| with my life
|
| My love that I take
|
| as a very clever excuse
|
| love mentally
|
| torn to reassembly pieces,
|
| love is not true
|
| love I love you love listen to me
|
| how many times I wanted to tell you you know
|
| if you weren't there then I never said it |