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Jealous

It feels like the whole world revolves around you, babe
Why can’t you ever just look at me?
I tried the whole time to be there for you babe
But it seems like I’ve already lost you
 
So what’s wrong? Don’t you see
What I do for us?
And now it’s hard when I can’t get through to you
 
You make me so jealous, jealous, jealous,
Babe, you make me, you make me jealous
Jealous
Babe, you make me, you make me
It feels like I’ve been running around in circles, I’ve got no answers, are you listening?
So why can’t I just be yours if you make me weak?
Babe, you make me, you make me
 
You sit there on your phone all the time
I try to get close to you but you say no
You say I’m your everything
But that doesn’t really seem true
Because you never look at me the way you look at him
 
So what’s wrong? Don’t you see
What I do for us?
And now it’s hard when I can’t get through to you
 
You make me so jealous, jealous, jealous,
Babe, you make me, you make me jealous
Jealous
Babe, you make me, you make me
It feels like I’ve been running around in circles, I’ve got no answers, are you listening?
So why can’t I just be yours if you make me weak?
Babe, you make me, you make me
 
We say that we’ll never change, sometimes
But it’s always the sameness old story every time
As if we’re going to talk about something
I’ll never ever have he courage to trust you again
Because what you told him was the whole truth
And you say your part, I say mine, but nobody’s listening
You go and lay down, I’m still here and everything’s silent
 
You make me so jealous, jealous, jealous,
Babe, you make me, you make me jealous
Jealous
Babe, you make me, you make me
 
It feels like I’ve been running around in circles, I’ve got no answers, are you listening?
So why can’t I just be yours if you make me weak?
 
Babe, you make me, you make me
Jealous, jealous
You make me, you make me
Jealous, jealous, jealous
You make me, you make me
Jealous, jealous, jealous
Babe you make me
Jealous, jealous, jealous
Babe you make me jealous
 
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Longing for Italy

I long for Italy,
for that lovely land,
where trees with yellow lemons
grow upon the seashore,
where nightingales warble
in the tranquil valley,
and the red, red seashells
glow upon the sand.
 
I yearn for Italy,
where the palm trees,
fragrant and tall,
stand with their green foliage,
where the lad plays the lute
close to his sweetheart's window,
when the twilight hour arrives
with its multitude of little stars.
 
I dream about Italy
when nightfall comes to our shed,
where there is an intricate scent
of spices among boxes and plummets.
In my dreams I see
the silvery channels
with thousands of gondolas
upon the clear river.
 
I fancy that I see,
in the soft moonshine,
how I scull the gondola
on the clean, transparent wave,
and in the stern,
illuminated by the stars' lustre,
sits a slender Italian girl
with a light and soft voice.
 
She sings about Italy,
that lovely land,
where trees with yellow lemons
grow upon the seashore,
where nightingales warble
in the dark and quit valley,
when the sun is setting
behind Vesuvius.