Il Nostro Caro Angelo
Lucio Battisti
Our Dear Angel
The lion's den
Is still a reality
Getting out is impossible for us
It's a slogan, a lie
Our dear angel
Feeds on roots and then
He sleeps in the bushes under the trees
But he'll never be a slave
The mirrors for the larks
Flicker uselessly on the ground now
Like prostitutes selling in the night
A cheerful basket of love that was never love
Fear and alienation
And not what you say
The wrinkles have too many centuries now
You can't cover them up anymore
Our dear angel
Is young, you know
The nets block his open flight
But he never gives up
Cathedrals cast shadows
The white wings don't seem white anymore
But our aspirations filter through the darkness
Bright tracers point to the blue
