Some spaghetti and tomato sauce
In the northern suburb of Dijon
I chose the diplomatic way
That saved me from jail
It's been twenty years of hiding
And I thought I wouldn't live so long
The FBI does its job
Of witness protection
Informant
I'm a traitor
I could have broken some stones
In some Texas penitentiary
Instead I'm getting drunk on beer
In a much less classy PMU1
Every night people fill up my glass
They laugh, they talk trash
When I tell them about the glass towers
My life in Little Italy
Informant
I'm a traitor
From mafioso to the very end
I became the local drunkard
While the men of my uncle
Are looking for Two-Fists Tony
In the first months of my hiding
I thought my life would be the same
I recreated what I missed
From my American Sicily
I helped out some acquaintances
With their neighborhood conflicts
Two or three bodies soaked in gasoline
A few domestic accidents
Informant
I'm a traitor
From mafioso to the very end
I became the local drunkard
While the men of my uncle
Are looking for Two-Fists Tony
My little neighbors, a brother and a sister
Showed me their school reports
I would meet with their teachers
And collect a few teeth
But nowadays I am too old
I'm taking care of my hydrangeas
It's weird how much better they grow now
What could I have buried here ?
Informant
I'm a traitor
In the bushes, something is moving
I see the shadow of a sniper
On my chest a red light
I was expecting you, I'm not afraid
Lay me down on my bed
On my heart an hydrangea flower
I will see the Stromboli again
I will forget the mafia
Informant
I'm a traitor
Informant
I'm a traitor
1. Typical gambling bar in French towns