In the tree-lined cities in forgotten fields*
Some are born too pretty, some are born too real
Some to death-wish pity, while the selfish steal
Some ground
So the hunchback pains as he starts to feel
As the Rise up man names his price to deal
It's look Ma, no hands on the steering wheel
Going round
Goes round...
Slows down
Some are early blooms, some are made to wait
Some arrive too soon, some way too late
Some think the moon can navigate
Life round...
Hey, can't you see
What will be?
Can't you see?
It's behind you...
What's behind you
Look behind you...
Hey, can't you see
What will be?
Can't you see?

INVIA LE CORREZIONI