Dull days, big raindrops
(based) on [or "living with"] pills and bottles
I won't search for cure
in movie theaters nor books
going to empty the ashtray
and (seeing) this dark jacket of yours
it's the balcony where, I'll throw it out
to find somebody who's getting cold, and me...
I'll wear silk dressing and it'll be blowing
in front of the factories and beside the garbages
I'll mix myself among the workers
I'll talk of (or "confess") my pain to street cats
and into the fire of the chestnut seller
it's ash what you'll become, you satan
It's got chill and I like it
and if I don't like it I'll do something mincing
love walks With a cane (means slowly)
and I've got an accelerator under my heel
my asthma (used here as a "heavy breathing") and my roar
on world's radios
on a leaky boat and feeling sea sickness
finally entering "pirate's life" myself also....