Angels
Angels
We're angels
Leaving Italy to go to Lugano
And always touching each other with the same hand
Like foreign land is a scam: this lake is scary,
There are too many banks. You need a samba, a witch
A bill
And it's night and I don't know where to spit:
It's so clean that it can't get dirty
A drunk that's bored comes out of a bar
He's not alone: he watches a little, even in Lugano
They have a slut
The striptease in that Lugano bar
Is performed by a woman with her teacup poodle
They go to the hotel to study new moves:
The girl is Lebanese, the poodle is from Turin
And has a bit of a cough
Angels
Angels
We're angels
A guard or a general, it's not entirely clear
Gives me a dirty look: I throw away the cigarette butt and that guy passes out
He's going to lecture me, but I make up for it
Because I pick up the still lit butt, I put it in my pocket
And start whistling
I whistle quietly because it's almost morning
Someone from Messina comes out of a pizza place:
He has high heels, he still has the apron in his hand
He seems tired and very sad, and I believe it:
He makes pizza here in Lugano
He came recently to work here:
He says it's tough, but you can also get used to it
And he's satisfied not doing anything in the morning
And with his motorbike he goes to see, goes to see
Where Mina lives
Angels
Angels
We're angels
A tall old man that resembles Garibaldi
Is on the street: he's cleaning it, it's very late
He stops, with the broom under his chin
Then looks up towards the sky and with his finger
Feels the wind
The night dies when the old man with the broom
Throws it to the sky and the sun returns to Europe
And everyone leaves here to work:
It's a sight to see
See the angels fly
Angels
Angels
So many angels