Silvana

There's a working-class laughter, full of emotion
There's a caring gesture of handmade affection
It's no use to count, it goes against your good sense
Money never buys your silence, your silence

When fighting for the weak is the reason for the riot
A thorn in the side, the pivot and the trigger
It's a clamor that runs through the streets, the diners, the bars
A character in search of a penny dreadful author

She weaves the web, she sets the plot
Everything revolves around her
Always her, Silvana.