I walk like a martian,
like a sick man, like a rascal
on the streets of Rome.
I watch people and dogs go by
and praetorian guards with sirens
and my soul fills with grief.
I feel like picking a fight,
I feel like changing my surname.
I have always been walking on glass shards
and I don't know why.1
But tell me where is your hand,
where is your heart.
Dear me, dear me, dear me!
I don't even have a random friend to have a coffee with.
Dear me, dear me, dear me!
I look around and everyone is better than me
Dear me, dear me, dear me!
Look at this downpour of water and leaves
what a wretched autumn this is.
Look at this downpour of water and leaves
what a wretched autumn this is.
I walk like a dissident,
like a derailed man, like a deserter
wihout so much as a hat
or an umbrella to open.
My brain is in shackles
what I say has already been said, what I see has already been seen.
Pleasant people feel unpleasant,
comedians make me sad,
I fear silence
but I can't stand the noise.
Where is your sweet hand,
where is your love?
Dear me, dear me, dear me!
I look around and everyone is better than me
Dear me, dear me, dear me!
Look at this downpour of water and leaves
what a wretched autumn this is.
Look at this downpour of water and leaves
what a wretched autumn this is.
1. or how