It's true that the weather is fantastic
For a Sunday in February
There are people already having a sunbath on the grass
And others are getting worried about the high temperatures
The elements are enraged
And the politicians are making laws
When an expert points to the Earth
The industrialist looks at the finger
And when he gets home
He says "Honestly, we've run out of seasons"
While the guys in suit
Assure us that all is well
We wonder if it's too late
And also what we can do on a daily basis
All of us on the same boat
Women and children first
All you have to do is watch the news
The disasters, the hurricanes elsewhere
The fires are on option
But honestly speaking, we've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
It's my grandmother who was right
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
The sky is dark on the horizon
We tell ourselves that man is capable
Of as much the best as the worst
And all these images that become too much for us to bear
When another continent sweats
We've constructed great museums
Cathedrales and giocondas
And yet we're not going to preserve
The natural beauty of the world
What's the hurry, anyway
The oceans will tell you
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
It's my grandmother who was right
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
The sky is dark on the horizon
We watch as our kids play marbles
In the streets of the planet
We worry about the shining sun
Like a sword hanging over their heads
What will have become of it in hundred years?
Will the Earth be able to go round
When their autumns become our springs?
When their winters become our summers?
And of the future generations
Are we going to ask forgiveness?
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
It's my grandmother who was right
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
The sky is dark on the horizon
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
It's my grandmother who was right
We've run out of seasons
We've run out of seasons
The sky is dark on the horizon