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Of nights with you
Of drops of blood
Of dirty caresses
How many do I have left?
Of verses for you
Of my sad eyes
And of these records
How many do I still have left?
Don't listen to the advertising
A soft Marlboro
The toxic Nazionale
A Muratti
A Pall Mall
A map Una Gitane
The tongue on the ash
I'll tear the filter away
My woman is a Bis
And she has the venom of a Kim
Or a camel light
It's like a lucky strike
And I don't turn it off
Of your promises
Of appointments
And of slow waltzes
/>How many will you give me, love?
Don't listen to the advertising
A soft Marlboro
The toxic Nazionale
A Muratti A Pall Mall
A map A Gitane
The tongue on the ash
I tear the filter away from her
In every death
I find that a little bit of summer
In the end there is