now we're writing this empty page
these words are the mirror of our rage
against this situation which is falling down
we want to run away, away from this town
these words don't come from a pessimist
'cause this life made us realist
we're a faint light which waits to shine
and dazzle the eye of someone blind
every life is a book which needs to be read until the end
but some of these books are forgotten
now you're reading this our page
because nobody unsterstands your rage
it's not your fault if this situation is falling down
empathy is so far away from this town, away from this town
every life is a book which needs to be read until the end
but some of these books are forgotten
and others in our room are stained by our ink
much more than anyone
of us can think
of us can think
of us can think
of us can think
of us can think

INVIA LE CORREZIONI