L'uomo che non c'è

Time is a constant
that I can't seem to handle
but love is the variable
of melancholy
because if you're in love
everything is easy, you know
if they dumped you instead
it's a drama
the right solution
I'll tell you which one
throw yourself headfirst into
some story that isn't there
delude yourself that you've found it
and you're fine like that
doing pretend like
in a movie

Saying he's my love
his burning passion
instead it's me
always using the 'we' subject
you tell your friends it'll happen
to you too
because he's so beautiful
so beautiful that
I don't understand how he manages
to be with me
because he's so sweet
so sweet that
when I kiss him it's like
biting into a cream puff
because he's so magnificent
so unique
that if I look for another
there's none in the world
and he seems fake, so fake
that
it's hard to admit that he
actually isn't there

And if friends ask
introduce him a bit
you try to avoid and say
look, it's not possible
he's not like the others
he's elusive to reality
in short, for now
he's not here
with time and luck
sooner or later you'll find
that man always idealized
in all your dreams
faithful, very patient
a bit like dad
but you pretend until
it doesn't work out.