Foto Di Gruppo

Too tired to sleep, like Pellico I start writing memories upon memories to repress
the unsatisfiable urge to pose unsolvable doubts
surrounded by a desert of anxieties, I don't recognize the knowledge
on some, moss grows while only the skull remains
certain friends I no longer see, don't even hear them
thinking of them, I remember in vain
memories so scattered they can no longer connect
sooner or later they will be lost in the banality of chatter
within the complicity of photos and letters
never promise if you're not able to keep
coincidentally, the more I write, the more I fear not having fully understood it
fearful of turning around to look at you and recognize you
I live in the present.

So it goes, you realize life is a group photo
many pose, too many live in contact with a reality that is not home
hurrying to make decisions waiting for something
with the risk that it won't happen, of someone not seeing you
of the reason that unites us within the frame too tired to sleep.

Within the frame, emerging from the depths to the surface
to rediscover a bit how things are, what is said
nothing new as usual, those who live to deceive themselves
those who end it, those who remain in limbo
between a thousand compromising situations, between a thousand and more tenants who evict him
those who stay grounded, those left in awe
few faces reassure in these times
I live with gratitude for passing moments
like a classic I reread with pleasure while already savoring the next
and attempts to be alone have failed, saved by the usual old friends
shall we have dinner here tonight, eternal close-ups taken
so we don't forget.

Because it goes, you realize life is a group photo
many pose, too many remain in contact with a reality that is not home
hurrying to make decisions waiting for something
with the risk that it won't happen, of someone not seeing you
of the reason that unites us within the frame still too tired to sleep.
So it goes, you realize the shot is blurry and out of focus
but it's too late to waste the moments you face
the unexpected you have to live through
paying in cash to be able to write about something
with the risk that it won't happen, of someone not seeing you
of the reason that unites us within the frame still too awake to sleep.