Marco Mengoni and Adriano Celentano - The Blue House (Live) [2019]
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The world is at the tip of my fingers, closed between a bed, a mirror and a fleeting joy. What have you painted for me, little girl? I have silently mixed color and tears and it is a drawing that is already confusing, the shadow of a sign that hides me, but I feel the night kissing my feet. Even if you don't see it, if only you knew the noise it makes. To love, to hate, to fight. ¡Viva la vida! Out there Mexico was screaming blasphemies and fables, inside the dust, the blood of the bullfight, The bull shakes the sword from his shoulder blades. Rose of the soul enclosed in armor like someone who is alone and smiles in fear. Can beauty drag us away if art is a lie that tells the truth? I have drawn a love that seems true, a puddle deluded into thinking it is the sky and a fine tear that cannot be seen, a necklace of thorns, the road we walked together and my back burning the blue house. The flesh, the blood, the veins of my war and desert the path closed in my hand, try another destiny that goes further. And on each canvas a print of my fingers. In my mouth words that are not said. Along my back the sweat of the climb. Would you have said such a ridiculous destiny? Like a star that shines extinguished already so much beauty that comes and will pass, I feel the night that touches my feet. Even if you don't see it, if you are silent you hear it. Shhh. Here's the noise it makes. I drew a love that seems true, a puddle deluded into thinking it's the sky and a fine tear that can't be seen, a necklace of thorns, the road we took together. The flowers, the absent son, the red bed, the skull in front, luck, bride, the broken dream, the beautiful girl and my destiny, death. The flowers, the absent son, the red bed, the skull in front, luck, bride, the broken dream, the beautiful girl and my destiny, death. I drew a love that seems true, a puddle that imagines it is the sky and a thin tear that cannot be seen, a necklace of thorns, the road we walked together and my back burning the blue house. The flesh, the blood, the veins of my war and deserting the path closed in my hand, trying another destiny that goes further. The flowers, the absent son, the red bed, the skull in front, luck, bride, the broken dream, the beautiful girl and my destiny, death. The flowers, the ausente hijo, the red cama, the enfrente skull, the heart, the new life, the rotting dream, the beautiful little girl and my destiny, death. Author: Fabio Ilacqua
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