Chicco has a scar on his face
He's with his brother who goes by Spillo
And they already know how to shoot like cowboys
Chicco tries to heat up his spoon under the sun
Spillo is stealing another motorbike
The marshal watches Italy from a bar
Old mattresses, tires, sinks, broken toilets
Dicks drawn on a cuckold's building
Africans at the station, the barber's lawyer
Another Alberto Sordi movie on the tv
Chicco is at home and his face is stuck on the radio
That's airing the advice section
And he would like to ask
How to rob a bank
And run away without your shoelaces untying
How to go to a place where nobody spits on you
And wants to put you in trouble
Cement tubes, cardboard boxes, diapers
Trash bags put up as lookouts by kids
The Red Cross ambulance, somebody's sick
The priest prepares the church for the funeral, for the funeral, for the funeral
Spillo has wrapped his happiness in a tissue
But it dried up in a holy second
"Hello, who's this?"
"It's Chicco, come here. This is the time we make it.
It takes a screwdriver to enter heaven"
"A screwdriver? Hold on, I'm coming.
I’m taking the motorbike, be there in no time"
"Do you realize how much money this is and how easy it was to steal it?
We can finally buy whatever we want
Why are you so quiet?"
"It's nothing, shut up, i don't feel like talking,
We are almost there, as soon as we're done we are good to go
Run, don't stop, come on, fuck, don't turn around
That's a cop's syren!"
Chicco and spillo hop on the saddle like two cats
And they skidaddle out of there full throttle
"Motherfuckers! You'll never catch us alive!"
"Look at this mess, look at where it lead us,
I'm so cold and I'm scared of dying:
Look out! Look out! Stop!"
(Bye.)