Without a scarf Odette a spoonful of pain
the neon man in profile in the window
and his condensed syrup is not exactly love
silence in the glass or another aspirin
Without favor entry the man with the raincoat
after prison hope in the sandwich
still young easily impressionable
and at night he makes love with the pillow
The murderer behind the tent is a puppet in the department store
with a wig and ten lire in his pocket
Excuse me where is Piazza Mazzini?
and I talk, I talk but what is there to say?
Odette breathes slowly in her tinfoil world
and Agnese is expecting a child and perhaps wants to smoke
and I with the bomb that I hope will explode by itself
because cowardly I don't have the courage to change
br/>The clean man petrified by the gaze of the Medusa
on the dusty chair the finger on the trigger
only love remains but the door is always closed
his cry for a world that gives him it goes tight
The clean man without an umbrella and it rains on his life
in front of the mirror before clocking in
on a bad afternoon his rusty indifference
in the private clinic Agnese died without the child
Drops of tired white milk on the parquet
on the phone he held his hand in the name
now in the corridor blood you say without a reason
and I with Odette or maybe not me: I'm far away
Or Odette and her locks of hair on her forehead
reading something lying on the sofa
a smile has finally blown the bridge
listen: what if I told you that I love you?

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