The wrinkled fingers get *****
with the dusty objects.
The memories get *****
when it talks about the wins.

– Noise is big, but the heart is more.

I'm too old for the world
and the world is too old for me.
Don't think I'm deep man,
because I'm not, at least not like this.

– I'm bored therefore I write you.

Without me the machine doesn't express itself
and therefore it stops existing in hurry.
Oh let this pass!

– It's over, Vicent, it's over! You're gone and now I am.

It always sounds in vain,
trying to say their names with affection.
Oh please let them in peace!

Someday we will rise
until the white clouds
and then from them we will fall down,
because they're fragile when you have them.

A sound which I can't hear.
A color which you can't see.
An aroma which she can't feel.
A surface which we can't touch.

I went in search of those pleasures;
killed by men and buried by time.
But, the great authors' love
it was my great setback.

There's nothing more heavenly,
except knowing which loving is essential
and even not feeling transcendent
being able to love unconditionally.

As human as you.
As real as you.
Just not so happy as you,
because of you...

Oh you and your **** belief!
Oh you and your huge cynicism!
Oh you and your small mind!

No form of love is wrong;
wrong is your prejudice, my friend.
Because on the inside we're like this:
no differences finally

Oh, go, Peter, go tell him!
Oh, go, Lucio, go own him!
Oh, go, Renato, go love him!

I don't see why so many worries:
the heart belongs to him, just to him.
Your hostility worries me
and your words scares me.

Oh understand him like a friend yours!
Oh, accept him like a brother yours!
Oh love him like a son yours!

They've been living in a nightmare.
They're always living in a nightmare.
It's always a nightmare in their minds.
Could that nightmare finish?

Oh, Peter, don't go; because loving is not fatal!
Oh, Lucio, don't hide; because you're not an animal!
Oh, Renato, don't be sad; because wrong is not being sentimental!

Everyone lies like I lie.
Everyone feels what I feel.
But no one sees what I see...

I was born so sure
that nothing would change my future
to the point of quitting that desire.

I was born someone poetic,
and for being so synthetic,
I couldn't rhyme in a flash.

I cried in an ocean
all the regret of a year.
And now, of boredom I yawn.

I was born from sea,
however, I never made it my home.
I preferred to live in any village.

I was born like this
without fear of going to the end.
Sad even I pant.

My phrases are good,
because they don't have me anymore.
Oh I lost even shame!

... He didn't want to wait.
He just couldn't wait...

I

Oh how's the other side?
Is it real? Is it heavenly?
I'm sorry, but I've got
so many doubts.

They say a lot about there.
They say just good people go there,
but, if it is for everyone,
why am I not there yet?

II

Oh light a light
and find me in the darkness.
I want to be found.
I want you to find me.

My body rots
six feet under your feet
and my soul vanishes
each delay your.

III

They say it was sin
and therefore you're not there.
I'm sorry, I can't find you,
I'm still afraid of them.

Eternity is so wanted
that I almost forget
what living is.
Living to die and nothing else.

IV

Oh I'm afraid too;
afraid of loneliness which inhabits me,
afraid of emptiness and
afraid of lack of life.

If I had waited,
we would be together now.
Because after waiting,
we just go through afterlife.

V

Oh there's no eternity,
rest or freedom.
It's just another place
in our minds.

I couldn't wait.
I died for you
and even so
I couldn't find you.

From the top of the cliff
I saw your body kiss
the ground with the loathing
of those who despises air.

Happily
I was in a dream,
remembering of whom I go along with
and stopping him going, even he tries.

Sometimes was loneliness
your most vain desire;
regretting for living,
but being unable to die.

Oh awful end!
On the road I found you,
dead with all I taught you.
And your pain made me live for myself.

He found a better solution.
He didn't want to change.
He softened his pain,
but he didn't want to wait…

This has never been a pleasure
neither has been lost.
Fact is what must be,
although it has already been.

We had something ephemeral,
which soon it would be gone
just like every euphoria,
bringing sorrows in great care.

None of us has
chances to escape,
but it makes so well
just imagining.

Without words I am
when I see what you loved.
Without hopes I exist
when there's nothing else besides this.