Paolo Conte - Sparring partner

Tekst :

Un macaco senza storia,
dice lei di lui,
che gli manca la memoria
infondo ai guanti bui
ma il suo sguardo una veranda,
tempo al tempo e lo vedrai,
che si addentra nella giungla,
no, non incontrarlo mai

Ho guardato in fondo al gioco
tutto qui? ma - sai -
sono un vecchio sparring partner
e non ho visto mai
una calma pi tigrata,
pi segreta di cos,
prendi il primo pullmann, via
tutto il reso gi poesia

Avr pi di quarantanni
e certi applausi ormai
son dovuti per amore,
non incontrarlo mai
stava l nel suo sorriso
a guardar passare i tram,
vecchia pista da elefanti
stesa sopra al macadm

Inne utwory

  • Legendary
  • Il maestro
  • La Java javanaise
  • Cosa sai di me
  • Reveries
  • Pasta diva
  • Bamboolah
  • Baci senza memoria
  • Blue notte
  • Roba di amilcare
  • Les tam-tam du paradis
  • Come mi vuoi
  • Azzurro
  • Pittori della domenica
  • Spassiunatamente
  • Un vecchio errore
  • Troppo difficile
  • La vera musica
  • Losowe utwory

    Realizing tonight

    I tried to call, but I m too scared, I cried too don t think you were alone, I m sorry i could not be there for you, you deserve so much more than me, what we had it s not so bad and I wish you could see that...

    The pleasure principle

    You might think I m crazy but I m serious
    It s better you know now
    What I thought was happiness was only part time bliss
    You can take a bow
    It was all just one big night out on the town
    Riding in your limousine
    We turned right and...

    10 Powodów

    Joł ja wiem ty nie lubisz tych Gurala wywodów,
    By mnie znienawidzić dam Ci 10 powodów,
    Tak ja wiem ty nie lubisz tych Gurala wywodów,
    By mnie znienawidzić dam Ci 10 powodów,
    No bo ja wiem ty nie lubisz tych Gurala wywodów,
    By mnie znienawidzić...

    The sound of white

    Like a freeze-dried rose, you will never be,
    What you were, what you were to me in memory.
    But if I listen to the dark,
    You ll embrace me like a star,
    Envelope me, envelope me...
    If things get real for me down here,

    Zabijać siebie

    Życie jak cytrynę wyciskasz
    Z taką siłą, że aż sok tryska
    Muzyka, trawa, wódka, zabawa
    Na głowie stajesz, biją ci brawa

    Następna dzika małotata
    Ręce ci we włosy wplata
    Brzuch ci jeszcze w tym nie przeszkadza
    Nie w głowie ci pieniądze, władza...