Molto Triste

An endless wait, to spend, the half,
Thirteen options so empty, as not to try,
Kids running, without a brake, with cardboard crowns,
Couples hand in hand talking, about what the other didn't understand.

335 grams, of your memory wrapped in salt,
Gummy worms, and familiar coke,
Four people in the room, discussing religion,
I kiss your ghost barely, feel the curtain rise.

And Malena, walks along the boardwalk,
While they watch her, like I usually watch you,
In the protest of my hands, that can't catch you,
Tears roll without time, asking me where you are.

I look at myself alone, between sobs without reason,
Frame by frame, blurring this love,
This emptiness of you in the air, I who can't be without you,
And I am very sad, because I dream, without you.

On the screen Tornattore, draws Italy without speaking,
Tale of a child in love, who maybe was his dad,
I slowly start thinking, reaching the end of the show,
And on the other side of this world, under your pillow the heart.

And Malena, walks along the boardwalk,
While they watch her, like I usually watch you,
In the protest of my hands, that can't catch you,
Tears roll without time, asking me where you are.

I look at myself alone, between sobs without reason,
Frame by frame, blurring this love,
This emptiness of you in the air, I who can't be without you,
And I am very sad, because I dream, without you.

Come back soon because even the cinema,
Is waiting to tell you, I missed you,
I missed you.