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Andrea

They don't make songs like "Guantanamera" anymore
What a nice song, I thought it was "Grab an apple"
Who knows how many songs I might have not understood
This always makes me stick to the ground
We grew up, but it doesn't only mean aging
Being what we wanted to be
On a trampoline that can't be flexed
I dodge an opponent who can't be knocked out
And how stupid I am, I thought I was well informed
But in order to be the most informed you need
A dose of resignation
Which acts as a constitution for those who demand the truth
And I would have never done shit
Had I listened to you, and you, and you, you too
But I have the frequencies of a sick person
And the message doesn't send, the line is busy (Tu-tu)
 
Andre used to sing, sing, sing
Without lessons, without a guitar
With no people looking at him
Outside, without his jacket
Andre used to sing, sing and scream
Without a napkin for the drool
Without the solfeggio, without the octave
With nobody listening to him
 
Andre would sing, sing, sing
Sing, sing, always more
Without knowing who was listening
Without knowing anything
And then he would sing, sing, sing
Without the hurry of going inside
With the suitcase in the middle of the square
Between the people but without a tour
 
Andre used to sing, sing, sing
Without knowing that sometimes he was off-key
He doesn't even remember the words
He mumbles verses, he makes things up
Andre is anyone, anyone who has a thought
Individual, similar or equal, happy or grave
Someone tried to make everyone like him, I felt bad for him
Sing there, and there
Sing Kadabra, then bodidibu1
He made "pom-pom" on my ego
I stood there listening, how I don't hear anymore
Sing it bad, sing it good
Sing it without copying anyone
I made "pom-pom" on my liver
And now they say: "Sing more"
 
Andre used to sing, sing, sing
Without lessons, without a guitar
With no people looking at him
Outside, without his jacket
Andre used to sing, sing and scream
Without a napkin for the drool
Without the solfeggio, without the octave
With nobody listening to him
 
Andre would sing, sing, sing
Sing, sing, always more
Without knowing who was listening
Without knowing anything
And then he would sing, sing, sing
Without the hurry of going inside
With the suitcase in the middle of the square
Between the people but without a tour
 
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Andrea

Klik om de originele tekst te zien. (Italiaans)

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