| A lost battle before it begins
|
| Ten hours of travel for two, flying…
|
| See the sun's rays reaching the room
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| To swear to you again, this is over
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| The passing hotels without pedigree
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| Stepping on the boards again ready to die
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| Dream of that song that never came later
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| Twenty years later almost nothing changed
|
| Nights of debauchery, mornings of ibuprofen
|
| Singing will always be the best poison
|
| Have a masochistic vocation, also as a juggler
|
| Never say goodbye, always goodbye
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| The blessed madness of being Peter Pan
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| Bone pains when waking up
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| Always jump without a net
|
| Toast without being thirsty...
|
| And a sack of little secrets I won't tell
|
| Nights of debauchery, mornings of ibuprofen
|
| Singing will always be the best poison
|
| Have a masochistic vocation, also as a juggler
|
| Never say goodbye, always goodbye
|
| The absent friends, the homicidal hangovers
|
| The do not disturb sign, the damn goodbyes
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| Dark circles in the soul, the gutter menu
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| Airports without calm, take off in vans
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| The phone that burns, the killer curtains
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| Arriving late to everything, not knowing routine
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| Forget all the names, recognize a face
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| And with a lot of luck get home unscathed
|
| The trade that chooses you, the poison that traps you...
|
| Nights of debauchery, mornings of ibuprofen
|
| Singing will always be the best poison
|
| Have a masochistic vocation, also as a juggler
|
| Never say goodbye, always goodbye |