Ansia da felicità [Sonntag Living] [English translation]

A Monday is never the last

But now the calendar has stopped

It makes thorns inside

It's like a day that passes every hour

Chorus:

Maybe if a day will pass

This anxiety of happiness

Maybe that the desire to not lose oneself won't return

Let's steal New York's wind

and a cinema from Berlin

and what remains

from this Sunday hung in midair

From Monday

to survive

It hurts a bit, It makes (you) laugh a bit

It can't wait

It's like a day that escapes every hour

Chorus:

Maybe if a day will pass

This anxiety of happiness

Maybe that the desire to not lose oneself won't return

Let's steal New York's wind

and a cinema from Berlin

and what remains

from this Sunday hung in midair

And how strange is the stupor

It's like having new CDs and little will to dance

And you don't think about it and meanwhile you look outside

And everything is far away

Chorus:

Maybe if a day will pass

This anxiety of happiness

Maybe that the desire to not lose oneself won't return

Let's steal New York's wind

and a cinema from Berlin

and what remains

from this Sunday hung in midair

And how strange is the stupor