Nostalgia Canaglia [English translation]

What is it,

this lump in my throat tormenting me, what is it?

You are here with me,

why then this absurd loneliness?

What is it?

If to herons flying always means freedom

Why then for us, instead, something inside feels wrong?

It feels wrong

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

it takes you against your will

you find yourself with a heart made of straw

and a fire you can never put out

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

to miss a street, a friend, a pub

to miss a place that dreams and makes mistakes

but gives anything if you just ask

Who knows why

we travel the globe to understand a little more

always more

you look far away and you lose a part of who you are

and then, why is an adventure only half good

on the way, that sweet nagging while suddenly come back

it will come back

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

it takes you against your will

you find yourself with a heart made of straw

and a fire you can never put out

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

to miss a street, a friend, a pub

to miss a place that dreams and makes mistakes

but gives anything if you just ask

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

it takes you against your will

you find yourself with a heart made of straw

and a fire you can never put out

Nostalgia, what a scoundrel nostalgia is

to miss a street, a friend, a pub

to miss a place that dreams and makes mistakes

but gives anything if you just ask