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With my hands I feel the rhythm
of a heart that beats for me
while I dream that I am no longer alone
olive green berets again above the mountains
and the Red Army that march towards the cities
will fight selfishness and falsehood
I leave my dreams on the pillow
the cold is waiting for me
redskins of Italy go to the cities every morning
Spartaco will break his chains, he knows it
the future alone will not change
The sixties are the economic boom for the bourgeoisie
for the workers, Scelba-style trucks and lots of police
'94 in Catania the blood and anger will come out of you
and who will tell us again to be good which side is on
Where do peace and progress take us who knows, who knows?
among the seven greats you will have like now the empty stomach
The Knight with the Gladiators advertises
State and Mafia, Italian Business produces poverty
Servants of servants and lackeys, castors and truncheons don't scare us cowards shouting A
We!. But who is he?
I'm a leftover from a construction site
rejected by society
respectable people go to steal every day
and if they get caught they'll cry
Priests pray to guards they shoot
pears they kill those who surrender
some hope for money they dream
then they wake up and despair
others leave for work looking for
dogs bite them guards chase them away
others resist barricades are born
beauty and poverty.
He will give away his best years to freedom
Short Circuit in the arm and in the heart brings solidarity
if indifference lowers your mood he will smile at you
if selfishness appears on the balcony the fist will fly
Strong soul and rebel has no respect for Saints and Bullies
on cars in uniform they are not his heroes. But who is he?
I'm a leftover from a construction site
rejected by society
good people go to steal every day
and if they get caught he'll cry
I'm a leftover construction site
I refuse this company
that thanks you by kicking your ass
and takes away bread from those who don't have it.
Bye, bye!