At the third double whisky
I almost shouted: "I love Venice!"
A glance behind my shoulder, I know,
He never wants to say no
I turned to the darkness, behind the glass I imagined my home
But there's not one reason to leave
A silk stocking on the bedside lamp
I love Venice!
A slow music pulls you up
and you live a little more
Right at the foot of the bed a newspaper, the question of Algeria
But not even a reason
that I recall
to go away
And three bottles in a row
Then four and laughter
Whatever the hell
I had that night
I don't remember anymore
I felt it was over and the *day was upon me already
And I looked like someone in another place
But I was still there
The motives of a man
They're not pretty
to be proven
The problem is to allow yourself a little of
the best and a little more
He came to the window,
I told him: "I think the darkness is going away"
*so calm, and sitting there
I seemed like I was
still in that place
He came to the window,
I told him: "I think the darkness is going away"
*so calm, and sitting there
I looked like I was
still in that place