Una rosa blu

A blue rose on your skin
reminds me of London, snobby and blonde with a touch of madness.
They say about you... looks like you're in,
that you warm up quickly, then everything else, and you never tie down.
But if you were mine, I’d tie you up
with a cord to the heart that hurts when you leave.
I’d write it on your skin,
that I like you just the way you are,
with the tattoo of that blue rose
that’s your courage and your extra resource.
And I tell you about me, about her, but who cares?
But it had to go this way.
And I don’t even notice what it means to say I love you,
that the rose on your chest has opened up more.
A blue rose that won’t go away,
sweet and a bit perverse, just like your unique fantasy.
A blue rose like no other,
but a rare thing is me tonight asking you for it.
I’d write it on my skin,
love in the car, no, there’s no magic.
A tattoo because it goes where you go,
to the beach or wherever, as long as we can run away.
And I tell you about you, about her, but who cares?
But it had to go this way.
And I don’t even notice that I said "I love you"
when your blue rose opens up more on your chest.
If you were mine, I’d tie you up... but a cord to the heart, you’re not there.
At the beach or wherever you were, your blue rose stings me,
sweet and a bit different is your fantasy.
But a blue rose on my skin,
I realize now, step by step,
that it won’t go away.