Sognare, Sognare

I wake up like always in the morning
never knowing what to do
I take a couple steps and then
I go back down to sleep
there's nothing left that drives me crazy
there's no man left that makes me feel alive
the only beautiful thing is sleeping, is sleeping, sleeping

Chorus: And dreaming, and dreaming, and dreaming
and dreaming of mice that eat cats
or robins that eat hawks and then...
stealing the wind from a kite
shouting for no reason
running wild like crazy
barefoot on the stones
living now and not tomorrow
like gypsies on the grass
drinking the rain from my hands...
without time and without a name
without a name

I stroll among the people, through the streets
in that trail, the one from the neighborhoods
I sit down tired and indifferent
I’ve put on too much gold
a creepy fat guy approaches me
he asks if there’s a restroom nearby

Chorus: It’s better to dream, and dream, and dream
and dream of mice that eat cats
or robins that eat hawks and then...
stealing the wind from a kite
shouting for no reason
running wild like crazy
barefoot on the stones
living now and not tomorrow
like gypsies on the grass
drinking the rain from my hands...
And this urge to dance
on a cloud over the sea
between two rocks under the sun
while someone breaks a heart
and this urge to play
without gloves in the snow
to die before getting old
I’m no longer terrified of being normal
of being normal...
of being normal...