The flaming lava descends the hill
I wash my feet, it's Sunday morning
The sun beats down on my head like a killer
The square is in celebration, the patron saint's feast
The sea shakes the bed
It's a collar around the neck
Satellites in the air fallen all around
And between a rosary and a civic mourning
I sit and wait to talk to someone
I'm Sicilian half African
A bit Norwegian a bit American
The bow of the boat cuts the sea in two
But the sea reunites and remains the same
And between a Greek, a Norman, a Byzantine
I remained Sicilian anyway
Carmelo is blonde and has an earring in his mouth
He already feels European, Palermo European
And among the houses still to be finished
We continue, we continue to make love
I'm Sicilian a bit Saracen
A bit Finnish but more from Catania

I look out the porthole there's a silver moon
The airplane shakes in the wind, I know
That soon I will land
And someone is waiting for me
And will smile at me, as soon as he sees me
Carmelo sleeps at the foot of the volcano
The wind that he had in his
Hair now shines the stars
In his eyes he has a metropolitan dream
And a slowly igniting volcano
I'm Sicilian North African
A bit Norwegian but still Sicilian

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