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Lazzerella

With the books under your arm,
And the blue flowered shirt,
You want to play the lady
In front of the school.
Even you smoke a cigarette,
When you buy them for you dad
You're already wearing lipstick
As you see your mum doing...
Lazzarella!
 
But Lazzarella, what are you?
I like you more and more,
And I come just to tell you that,
Near the school of Jesus.
But you tell me instead: "Yes, sure,
I have to listen to you...
For me, love can wait,
What am I supposed to do? It just doesn't suit me!"
 
Ah, Lazzerella!
Breeze of the spring
When you pass by, every morning,
You have to look at yourself on the storefronts
Only a compliment makes you blush.
But Lazzerella, what are you?
You don't ever think of me
And you laugh to make me realize
That I'm just wasting my time with you!
 
Now comes a student,
In front of the school of Jesus,
Your blue flowered shirt
Is more and more tight on you
And you catch it
Everytime your father
Finds a card
Written to you by that dude over there...
Lazzerella!
 
But Lazzerella, what are you?
You fell for it too,
Loves doesn't feed you
It makes you suffer, it makes you overthink
One evening you tell him: "No!"
But if he wants to kiss you
You gesture a "yes", without talking
 
Ah, Lazzerella,
Oh, time really flies:
Now you find every morning
Your pillow filled with tears
Neither one of your friends can help you!
But Lazzerella, what are you?
You changed as well,
And your gettind ready to say "Yes!"
Inside the church of Jesus!
 
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Lazzarella

Dalszövegek (Neapolitan)

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