Passerà

Songs are not written
But they are born by themselves
They are the things that happen
Every day around us

Just catch the songs
There is one for you too
Who struggles more to live
And never smiles

Songs are gypsies
And they steal poems
They are like pills
Of happiness

Songs do not heal
Loves and illnesses
But that little pain
That existence gives us

It will pass, it will pass
If a boy and a guitar are there
Like you, in the city
Watching this life that doesn't go well
That kills us with illusions
And with the age of songs

It will pass over us
We will all end up in the bank sooner or later
With the whys, the who knows
And the anxieties of a rich poverty
Talking about the loves you don't have
Singing a song you don't know how it goes
Because you lost it inside
And you only remember
It will pass

In a world of cars
And great speed
For those who always arrive last
And for those who say goodbye
For those who bump into obstacles
Of diversity
Songs are fireflies
Singing in the dark

It will pass sooner or later
This little pain
That is in you, that is in me, that is in us
And makes us feel like sailors
At the mercy of the wind and nostalgia
Singing a song you don't know how it goes
But that little pain
Whether it's hate, or it's love
It will pass

It will pass, it will pass
Even if you only do
La, la, la
It will pass, it will pass
And a song will serve something
If your little pain
Whether it's hate, or it's love
It will pass