And something remains, but the pages are clear and the pages are dark I erase your name from my face And I confuse my alibis with your reasons My alibis with your reasons Who made me the cards? He called me a winner, but a zingaro is a trick If an invading future had been a little younger I would have destroyed it with fantasy I would have torn it with fantasy Now you can send your lips to a new address And my face overlaps that of who knows who else It's still your four-axis, it's just one color You can hide or play as you want Or make them remain good friends like us And... Without the desire to live, it is sweet to come back to me Like when it rained outside and you asked me If I still had that picture In which you smiled and did not look And the wind passed on your fur collar and on your person And when I, without understanding, said yes You said it's all you have of me It's all I have of you Now you can send your lips to a new address And my face overlaps that of who knows who else Oh, still your four axes go well with just one color And you can hide them or play as you want Or make them remain good friends like us Ba da da da da