Alzo Le Mani
Fabi, Silvestre e Gazzè
Raise Your Hands
The sound of rain in the afternoon
Cicadas in July at a campground
The sound of the ferry entering the port
The screech before the crash
The ambulance siren approaching
The one you hear in war looking up
The roar of the crowd in a stadium
The noise of life
I will never play like this
I can play, entertain
Bring back good mood or shed tears
But I will never play like this
It's not just something different
It's a lost battle: Raise your hands
The phone ringing when you expect it
My father's fingers on his typewriter
The cannon at noon on the Gianicolo
The lock, upon your return
The bell ringing when the tram departs
The one that empties the classroom in an instant
The gentle breath of a child
The silence of the snow
I will never play like this
I can play, entertain
Bring back good mood or shed tears
But I will never play like this
It's not just something different
It's a lost battle: Raise your hands
And then it happens that a sound hits you
Like a crystal wind
Clutching onto madness
A prisoner of the standstill like a sea
And like the autumn tree leaves on the asphalt
Piling up against the walls
Who surrenders, sleepless, without residues
Without faces, that string of breaths
I will never play like this
I can play, entertain
Bring back good mood or shed tears
But I will never play like this
It's not just something different
It's a lost battle: Raise your hands
