A river of words that don't know where to go, pimps like a cat that lets itself be petted, they swim in my head and then go down my throat and they want to be heard by just one person, just one person who
knows how to understand them, someone who knows how to capture everything they have to say, someone
who can take them to keep them, someone to whom they can dedicate them. Of course it doesn't matter how long it lasted, but it seemed long enough, you never thought about how many things we did and how much we talked, and how many sleepless nights we we spent nights of speeches, nights of bullshit, of sex and remorse, of fights, with the taste of beer, Nutella and biscuits, of sweat, of wet and unmade beds. I liked you, you know, when you laughed, I also liked the way you fucked and enjoyed yourself, but now it's all far away, let's say it's over, I've had a couple of affairs since we haven't spoken, I'm
I've returned to my old beliefs, and I only use women as a
ass drainer, spinning, very horny, with a DJ for a friend and a
microphone for a lover. But I remember that time when we gave our best, in the end I was destroyed and I looked for you, it was automatic, I don't understand it yet, I hadn't thought about you before then, and it's It was that night
that I thought about this text, I didn't understand why, but I felt that doing it was
right because I am grateful to you for what you taught and what you
learned, I created it, and maybe it's not that great, but it's fucking true and it's
just for you....just for you. ...Only for you. Just for you, believe me it's a strange fact,
let's dedicate, let's limit this song, be careful, don't misunderstand my
intent: I'm not crying, I'm just reflecting. I use this slow rhythm as an accompaniment to my comment, unlike those ballsless people who cry in a composition because they lost their woman, or what they call love. What is this love if not an exchange of interests, which lays the foundations on a series of compromises, yes, and you know well that this is not one of those dear little songs to our tradition of Italian
unlucky song, made of sweet heart juices, that people like us
only make us vomit. Those who have received too many kicks in the ass, that kind of
kicks that makes your heart hard, and teaches you to take without giving, to
offend and to use, and then to hit, and here's the difference I noticed:
with you I took, but I also gave, and so only for you I am speaking now,
only for you I rhyme this piece. ...just for you ...just for you. The important things
are difficult to say, words make them stupid and small, and then I am not
good at describing what I feel, especially on this topic, I
know myself and I know that I I would have forgotten what was the sign I
left something that I would never have dreamed of doing and of which some time ago I
would have been ashamed, but it's not every day you come across a girl who listens to you before speaking, who loves what you love, who hates what you hate, who doesn't spend her life in front of the mirror, who doesn't make it in a moment, >who doesn't care about your appearance but who looks inside you and who has a cat's face when she looks at you, but if she gets angry she can be cruel and a bastard, who in everything she does is © stylish and original, who if you are with her makes you feel
a little special, who when she gives you it is with warmth, who never fucks but just makes
love, so here's the my sign, my memory rhythmic, spit on
this bass line, and here I leave it for every time you want to hear it and it is
only for you and for those who know how to understand it