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The choice

When I grow up, I'll play the Pastoral 1
Now I'm curved over the piano like a pastoral staff 2
My father is in a bad mood, he wants me to be a prodigy
But I'm just a child and he's disappointed
Father, drop the bottle, you're ruining yourself
You're stern when I do an apprenticeship
I'm Romantic, but for you
I'm just a bunch of florins 3
I'm Ludwig, cult, myth
Women avoid me like I had typhus fever
Too much stress, when I was thirty years old I became deaf
You're talking, but you look to me like a fucking mime
If we look at it from this angle, my life has sense
If we look at it from this piano 4
I'll take the stool instead of the rope 5
I'll sing the Ode to joy 6
Because I see the abyss, but I'm gliding over it
 
I write thousands of letters, I'm making a noise
I struggle against silence, but I'm gonna make it
I'll keep my music, I'll let go of love
I'll be immortal, my lover won't
 
And I'm happy with the choice I've made
Not one remorse, not one regret
Yes, I'm happy, what a great finding
You only need to make a choice
Pathetic, heroic...7
This is my life, don't forget it...
 
My name is Marco, I feel freezing cold under the spotlight
I'd like to stay outside of this, but the world wants me to go on tour
I got into the charts because fame is blind 8
So blind that after all it's not even my business anymore
It's a good job, I've been making money for a long time
It's worth like a Golden Record inside a coffin
I want to look at my son, times passes by and I realise
That I'm looking at a page like a baking paper
Hey, I'm Marco, new Romantic
Under the stage I disappear, puff, like talcum powder
What a disaster, they're burning my contract
'cause my sound is too dark, too subtle
I'm ready for a quick retreat
My family is more important than a series of notes
And they talk, talk, while I
I'm fixing my life with my faint voice 9
 
And I'm not leaving any letter, no noise
I love my silence, you don't know how much
Thanks for the applause, but I've chosen love
This is my life, don't forget it
 
And I'm happy with the choice I've made
Not one remorse, not one regret
Yes, I'm happy, what a great finding
You only need to make a choice
Pathetic, heroic...
This is my life, don't forget it...
 
Going on with the chords or game over
Looking at the world sober or in hangover
I say to myself 'play your trump card!', but to go where?
Or Mark, or Bee then surely you have memory lapses.
I wrote it because I couldn't access my email inbox and I thought:
I don't remember passwords, let alone my history!
In a few years I will forget who I am
what I think, what I like, what I despise.
Indeed here you are, like the Memento guy
Ok, listen to this piece and the rhymes inside of it.'
 
Don't be afraid of getting old
the age you display attracts, see Persepolis
Don't be afraid of singing offkey
unlike popstars, bells play for centuries
In a world where everyone is competing
don't ride, get on Pegasus' back
and remember to honour the silence
pretending to leave a flower on Marcel Marceau's tomb
 
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
 
Don't praise modernity, it's plastic
in the '30s, modernity was the swastika
It's tense in here, you're not breathing, you're wheezing
it's a summer cruise, but in the hold of an Admiral
Travel in the car, on a monocycle, on a gilder
not in your room with the finger on the atlas
Souls ache because they don't ever go anywhere
and then, when they could, no one does.
At night, turn your phone off
It's a device and it's stealing your smile (*)
Respect the mass, but your bodily one
not the one blaming everything on politicians and 'it's a shame!!'
Accepting pain to appreciate life
is like swallowing an ember to appreciate pizza
Ridiculous, thinking about those who have it worse doesn't make it any better
unless you're cynical
 
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
 
Remember: your sixth sense is that of guilt
and everyone takes advantage of it, at least once
so it's okay to open up with others
but at least put a door at the entrance.
Defend yourself and defend culture, not by taking to the streets
but by taking the street to go to the cinema or the theatre
When the Odeon closed down (*) everyone complained
yeah, but no one ever went there in a whole year.
It's not true that your degree is useless
what's useless is debating about glutes in thongs
Not everyone loves you, they are wary of the icon
Become a saint and you'll be ad-Myra-ble, like St. Nicholas
Listen to what you like, not what's liked by who's liked
Forget about Karma, everyone got away with it
If you're elected mayor be thankful, inaugurate Kiss Square
and see who's startled.
 
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
You're losing it, it's the way it is
but your memory is already improving with a click
 
Nothing weird if, at tea time
I don't think at all about the plate of consommé turkey breast
that I put in the fridge yesterday at lunchtime.
Nothing weird if, to avoid serious misunderstandings
I put up a sign - I don't deny it -
of eloquent verses on the white door
'Remember about the plate of consommé turkey breast'.
Nothing weird if only now
they tell me, light black on yellow, that in the fridge
there's still, untouched, the plate of consommé turkey breast.
Nothing weird if, when I close the fridge door
it's not only its inner light that dims on the food and fades away
but mine too - slowly on the brain.
 

Giotto Beat

Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!1
 
We're slow lenses2, we need a photokit.
We pass the buck without any prospect 3:
[Or any perspective, we are as flat as] 8-bit Donkey Kong.
We need an 'acchord'4: let's call Vladimir Horowitz
Before a bald guy wearing a fez5 does another blitzkrieg.
Our problem is the falling [share prices], think about it Cassel6
We'd need an old song: play it Sam!
Lambretta, Fiat 500, the surf craze:
[Now] we're in 500 people queueing out of the drug counseling.
[Now] we're more resigned, more doubtful, poorer, more anesthetized
Than a patient in recovery room.
[We were] born with the Italian economic boom myth
[And we] died under the BTP7/BUND8 spread.
Do prick up your ears like Legolas, Orlando Bloom9
I want the brick dance back10,
I turn my back but I...
...I find myself on a brick11 playing Wii [Fit]
Hot coals barefoot, I must get outta there:
I got knocked down, but I get up [as] Mohammed Alì!
 
I need a prospect - as in the 60s - and a radio singing 'ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!'
I need a prospect, a new point of view: the eye doctor told me so: Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!
I need a prospect, [somehwere] in between of who's right and who's wrong: I need a third dimension: 'ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!'
I need a perspective as Giotto's paintings12, as who's beaten down during the G8!
Giotto Beat! (Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!)
Giotto Beat! (Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!)
 
We need fliming uptick and stability:
Steadycam.
I want to wake up there,
In Italy just after the IIWW:
Everyone went to the seaside during the weekend,
No smut aired on TV,
Lieutenant Sheridan13
Cheers, President Saragat14!
You go ahead and hope:
We burn it down to ashes as hemp!
Under the sun wearing a Panama hat.
We'll shot [each other] down but
We'll have a fistful of air in return as in Galaga15.
The electoral circus is more like a criminal show,
Now we just have to philosophize like Schopenauer.
And I do not even know who I should get ruled by:
I see circuses but I see no bread16: [go and] tell it to Iuvenalis!
This reality is not for me, like a Fabergé17
I go on by just dead reckoning, [following the scent] as a sommelier with Cabernet.
I'd like to dance the Ye[ah!] Ye[eah!] spinning aroung the Piper Club18
[As the] loading pointer on a Mac!
 
I need a prospect - as in the 60s - and a radio singing 'ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!'
I need a prospect, a new point of view: the eye doctor told me so: Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!
I need a prospect, [somehwere] in between of who's right and who's wrong: I need a third dimension: 'ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!'
I need a perspective as Giotto's paintings12, as who's beaten down during the G8!
Giotto Beat! (Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!)
Giotto Beat! (Ye[ah] ye[ah], ye[ah] ye[ah]!)
 
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
I don't know it, guys!
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
I whish it was [an] easy [question to answer].
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
I'm just a singer!
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
I'm just complaining!
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
[You shall] not pay the value-added taxes!
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
[You shall] accept an undeclared job.
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
Forgive me, Pasolini.
Tell us which is [the right] prospect[, then]!
Giotto Beat!
 

• 1. Mimicking the 'yeahs' that were present in a lot of songs composed during the 60s: some examples are 'She loves you' and 'It won't be long' by The Beatles
• 2. Italians self-identify as belonging to a country that is falling behind the other ones. 'Lenti' has also the meaning of '(optical)' lenses: Caparezza is using this secondary meaning for the remaining half of the verse.
• 3. In Italian 'prospettiva' also means perspective. This explains the next verse
• 4. In Italian, 'accordo' could mean either 'agreement' or 'music chord'
• 5. Italia's former dictator, Benito Mussolini
• 6. Caparezza quotes the sentence «And as it falls,it keeps telling itself: 'So far so good... So far so good... So far so good.' It's not how you fall that matters. It's how you land.» from the main character Vinz La Haine. Vinz was interpreted by the French actor Vincent Cassel.
• 7. the Italian long-term government bonds
• 8.
• 9. He acted the part of Legolas in 'The Lord of the Rings' saga:
• 10. Another dance from the 60s:
• 11. Wii's Balance Board
• Giotto made either two dimensional afrescos or with a naïve perspective
• 13. A fictional detective played by the Italian actor Ubaldo Lay
• 14. The 5th President of Italy.
• 15. An old archive game
• 16.
• 17. Fabergé had to flew from Russia after the Soviet revolution.
• 18. An old 60s disco in Rome

It Wasn't you

It Wasn't 1 you that speak of freedom
like when you speak of a good night on a brothel
It Wasn't you that drag the country into the darkness
but you enjoy being luminaires
It Wasn't you that are firm men
just because you are surrounded by a group of idiots2
It Wasn't you that wave the flag
like on the stadium, and that for you is enough to feel patriots
It Wasn't you or your parliament
of worshipers ready to do everything to get a hearing
It Wasn't you that buy votes with propaganda
but you never pay the consequences3
It Wasn't you that hold in your fingers
the rosary of the polls hoping that will hearten you
It Wasn't you that solve the drama of the unemployed
going on tv to do the jugglers
It Wasn't you
It Wasn't you
 
It Wasn't you hangmen with a uniform
that beat to death the prisoners
It Wasn't you with bovver boots
on unarmed faces, being kicked
like trash bags
It Wasn't you that send your children to the front
like a carrion to the hyena that strips the flesh of it
It Wasn't you that tuck in the flags
on the coffin to put to sleep every sense of guilt
It Wasn't you fucking unprepared angry mob
always searching for an enemy for the fight
It Wasn't you that will burn like witches
the immigrants except to save the one in the cave
It Wasn't you with the bust of the duce on the desk
and the constitution under the feet
It Wasn't you that will deserve to be weed out
like the bad weed from your headquarters
It Wasn't you
It Wasn't you
 
It Wasn't you that toast with the blood
of who try to make light on your obscure lives
It Wasn't you that want to give voice
to party's newspapers silent like burials
It Wasn't you that make customized laws
like a pair of underwear depending on the genitals
It Wasn't you that handle who criticizes you
like a stray to which cut the vocal cords
It Wasn't you, slaves, that have rent
sovereigns costumes with undeserved money
You are brethren of a lodge that rest
on the value of the privileged like you
That you call the member of the mafia 'heroes'
and that you call the corrupted 'devout'
And each one of you, involved in every possible crime
looks the magistrate and then swears on God:
'It Wasn't me'
 

• 1. This is based on the double meaning of the Italian word 'stato', when used as verb it becomes 'was' while if used as a subject and written with capital S,
  it becomes 'Country'
• 2. firm men = uomini di polso, the literal translation will be 'men of wrist'
  manica di idioti = group of idiots
  Manica has a double meaning: group or sleeve
• 3. This is a reference to political parties buying electoral votes from the Mafia, but every investigation never finds anything

It makes you feel good

Hey, I need at least a reason that makes me feel good
I'm bored of the TV dramas, of the gripes, of the star in depression
Of the black mourning of the who have nothing except everything
Of the evenings closed for cult TV series, like I close and we are toghether
Blowing hot wind
We remained twenty calm
And time is crazy
Hippies barefoot becoming fervent nazi
Making G8 in bars, with biscuits and cherry muffin
They are hilarious playing cop Eddie Murphy
Sorry I don't sleep, on my glock 17
Dreamin' bodies I wrap like a cassettes stock
Now that I trust you like who hitch-hikes in handcuffs
I choose a choir like Mariele Ventre that makes me feel good
Forever!
 
With dirty hands, with black spots
Fly on a broom like witches do
You have to do what makes you feel
You have to do what makes you feel good
Blow on the bubbles with full cheeks
And draw grimaces on serious faces
You have to do what makes you feel
You have to do what makes you feel good
 
Hey, I need at least a reason to get in the good mood
Before that the rage throttles me while I push on the ruff
It seems like that the ugly arise spontaneus from and old conflict
Better some people tell It to who picked up uranium in Kosovo's conflict
Who cares about famous diets, of stripes in the sky and banks
I see no more shadow if I light my candle in the bunker
I don't play like your boss covered of gauzes like Tutankhamon
I don't live the half-age crisis where dimezza goes all straight
I want to be surpassed like a Bianchina from super Auto
Like the basement of your super mansard
Like my rhymes when the moment runs away
Everyone is in competition and I slow down
Until running out of time
Surpass the idea of surpassing makes me feel good
 
With dirty hands, with black spots
Fly on a broom like witches do
You have to do what makes you feel
You have to do what makes you feel good
Blow on the bubbles with full cheeks
And draw grimaces on serious faces
You have to do what makes you feel
You have to do what makes you feel good
 
Wanna feel good? Feel Good
Wanna feel good? Feel Good
Wanna feel good? Feel Good
Wanna feel good? Feel Good
Saving half effort?
Deleting half telephone book?
Breathing only clean air?
Walking to the exit? ta?ta?ta?ta?