Born at the borders of the periphery.
Where the streetcars move ahead no longer.
Where the area is popular,
It is easier to dream than to look into the face of Reality...
How many young people go away
In search of more than what they have!
Perhaps, because the fists they've taken,
To no one, have they ever given,
...and inside, they hurt even more.
And I have learned, that in life,
No one, never, gives us more.
My, how much panting: how much ascent:
Moving forward without ever looking back...
And you are: now, you.
To give a meaning to my days;
All goes well from the moment you are: now, you.
But, I will not forget, all of my friends
...who are still there.
And we find ourselves; always more alone.
In this Age, you never know... you never know...
My, how many races: how many flights:
Moving forward without ever arriving...
And you are: now, you.
At the centre of my thoughts: the internal part of my breaths,
You, must be the Will, that has no limits,
You who, for me, are already ("una rivincita") a revenge.
...and now, you know who that man is, who is in me...
Born at the borders of the periphery,
Where I return to, hardly ever,
There rest the winds that I have left,
Like a train already passed,
Today, that you are next to me.
Today, that you are the only.
Today, that you are... now, you.