Some nights your car is heated up and where it will take you it decides for itself
Some nights the road does not count and what counts is the feeling that you are driving.
Some nights the radio playing Neil Young seams to have understood who you are.
Some nights resemble to a bad habit, that I never, ever want to break.
Some nights you make a little uproar to make them feel you will never change.
Those nights among thighs and mosquitoes and fog and clubs you call by their first name.
Some nights you have some wound that one of your girlfriends is going to disinfect.
Some nights when the bars are closed someone will celebrate at the first motorway restaurant.
And it is possible to stay alone, on some nights here, when the one who is satisfied enjoys, more or less.
Some nights you are either awake, or you'll never wake up, we'll meet at Mario's sooner or later.
Some nights you feel like a master of a place that during the day does not exist.
Some nights if you are lucky you knock at the door of someone like you.
There is the night holding you between it's tits, a little like a mommy, a little dirty as it is.
Those nights that are to make love until it hurts, as long as there is anything left.
It is impossible to stay alone, on some nights here, when if you are satisfied you will enjoy, more or less.
Some nights are nights, and we will give them to you, Mario will open anyhow, sooner or later.
Some nights here, some nights here, some nights here, some nights...
Some nights you are simply as thoughtless, as eager, as simple, as much of an asshole as you can be
exactly those nights are a bad habit that I never, ever want to break.
It is impossible to stay alone, on some nights here, when if you are satisfied you will enjoy, more or less.
Some nights you are either awake, or you'll never wake up, we'll meet at Mario's sooner or later.
Some nights here, some nights here, some nights here, some nights...