My father has a common history
shared with his own generation
The courtyard jaw spoke
Too many deaths have proven it wrong
All people who understood
And the kid on the courtyard is playing
he throws stones in the sky and in the sea
Every time he hits a star
he closes his eyes and starts dreaming
he closes his eyes and starts dreaming
And the horses in Salò died of boredom
Playing with the always-losing black
Mussolini also wrote poems,
Poets what ugly creatures
Every time they talk it's a scam
But my father is a quiet guy
In the morning he reads a lot of newspapers
He is convinced to have ideas
And his son is a pirate ship
And his son is a pirate ship
Still now a black writing remained
on the wall in front of my house
it say that the movement will win
The new leaders have calm faces
And ties to match the shirt
But the kid on the courtyard stopped
He got tired of following kites
He sat among near memories, distant noises
He looks at the wall and at his own hands
He looks at the wall and at his own hands
He looks at the wall and at his own hands