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