I fly out the window
And so many days are left behind
All the things don't hurt me anymore
that yesterday could bother me
They're drawers that close
They're words that I couldn't say
Because nothing touches me
And there's nothing alive inside me
I'm floating in the air since this afternoon
Now the floor is made of clouds and I lean out every so often
to spy on you from where I am
The neighborhood lights up and the night turns into day
It shines like a Christmas tree
And I'm high, very high, and the lights of the cars
that stop every so often and start up again
And I see people running
like a choreography without end
And I fly like in a small plane
The smell of fugazzetta that mom cooks
And I remember that day when you were saying
"If you could be a bird, what would you do?"
Now that I float and don't feel what I touch
And people don't see me pass by
I'm gonna take advantage to go get you
and tell you how everything is over here
Some mornings grandma Yolanda comes by
and we go out together to stroll
And Pocha's husband sends you regards
who plays chess with me and I can't beat him
And go ahead with the kid from around the corner
that this afternoon stopped by to visit you
I keep waiting for you because nothing rushes me
And someday everybody comes over here