Face À La Mer

We don't choose our origin,
nor our skin color
like dreaming of a life in a castle
When living in the ghetto
feeling the noose around the neck like Cosette for Hugo
born in conflict
and praying to the Most High.

Son of the C.O.N.G.O
this hatred I have at the M.I.C.R.O I have the weight of words.
getting out from the bottom,
dreaming of tearing apart this picture made of weapons, tears,
made of blood and sobbing.

Facing the sea
I should have grown up
Face down
I could have died
I rise
I take my last dream.

Both from the same slab.
And both disappointed.

I take my last dream.

It's the drought on a land where we never stop sowing sadness
in eyes that can't cry, I have many distant dreams.
I rebelled so much, I drank a lot of nonsense and it made me too drunk.
In life there are hits at the bottom and hits on the side, 'you don't have a euro'
or the hit by force, there's the State, the welfare recipients, the 'just work.'
If you're at the bottom, you have to work hard.
If you're at the bottom, you have to work hard, don't give up.
You haven't experienced that, the desire to pocket the potatoes,
be left right facing the sea far from troubles.
You haven't experienced that, the desire to get out of it, distribute potatoes
left right with a grim look.

Facing the sea
I should have grown up
Face down
I could have died
I rise
I take my last dream.

Both from the same slab
And both disappointed

I take my last dream
Facing the sea
It's you who resist
Face down
Your name on the list
of your whole being
Summoned to appear.

It's the story of this feather suffocating in the tar, this gray matter
that the country hasn't acquired, we rise, we start over,
we aim for the Pantheon, I place one for those who have it, I have it like my
buddies have it. We want to touch the starry sky without lowering our pants.
Too few good fairies and too many Cinderellas. Calo-Passi 2004 action.

I take my last dream.
I rise
I take my last dream.

Both from the same slab
And both disappointed

I take my last dream.

Both from the same slab
And both disappointed

I take my last dream.

We don't choose our origin, nor our skin color
like dreaming of a life in a castle
When living in the ghetto
feeling the noose around the neck like Cosette for Hugo
born in conflict and praying to the Most High.
Son of the C.O.N.G.O this hatred I have at the M.I.C.R.O I have the weight of words.
getting out from the bottom, dreaming of tearing apart this picture made of weapons, tears,
made of blood and sobbing.
Facing the sea
We all want to grow up
Calo-Passi too young to die