What will we tell the children that we will never have
Of those sleepless nights?
Pitch black like gas station hands
In which we felt like the Rolling Stones
Squeezed into a Ducato with guitars in hand
In the Autogrill to review the sets well
And spend one hundred euros in cachet in Camogli
There was a strange air inside the motels
Dream stains on beds go away with Chanteclair
No lights at the San Siro
And we, children of a god who is agnostic
But he believes in horoscopes
And when you die he doesn't say, 'Where are you going?'
He just asks, 'How was the live?'
I don't wear rock band shirts anymore
I've come a long way, yes, but by hitchhiking
At twenty-seven you can die
Or become a little more pop
And all bands break up
They choose each other and then they melt
But we are stuck on that night
Rome-Milan in four hours
It takes a lot, a lot of heart
On the door was written 'Dentista Croatia'
It was a fool, but it was cheap
During the week he took the elderly to Zagreb
For perfect teeth and a low cost smile
They laughed behind our backs
And that's how they became large
Waiting for something that never came
I don't wear rock band shirts anymore
I've come a long way, yes, but by hitchhiking
At twenty-seven you can die
Or become a little more pop
And all bands break up
They choose each other and then they melt
But we are stuck on that night
Rome-Milan in four hours
It takes a lot, a lot of heart
And there is a destiny called destination
I don't know what stage we are in evolution
But maybe in this same sentence I find the answer
And now Dentist Croatia, what happened to you?
'Luci a San Siro' now someone else sings it to you
You taught me that you only live in moments
And that anything passes if we grit our teeth
I don't wear rock band shirts anymore
I've come a long way, yes, but by hitchhiking
At twenty-seven you can die
Or become a little more pop
And all bands break up
They choose each other and then they melt
But we are stuck on that night
Rome-Milan in four hours
It takes a lot, a lot, heart