Pss, hey, how much will you give me?
I'll do whatever you want
Without a sense of shame
They will never stop me
But can't you see I'm hungry?
Two thousand euros, three stories
A singer-songwriter's ragout
That's what we need

I have to write a hit that's not a hit
Yes, to not take steps back or forward
And not lose that little bit of mainstream audience
That I've won over the years

Look how much I resemble you
We are children of antibiotics in chickens
Of plastic in dreams
And everyone's playing the artist
With millions and sad faces
And when you talk to me about the book you've written
I think

I'm not interested
In your reasons, your artificial thinking
You'll get tired
Your existence
Is locked in a cultural prison
I won't come to visit you

Hey, how much will you give me?
I'll do whatever you want
Without a sense of shame
They will never stop me
But can't you see I'm hungry?
Two thousand euros, three stories
A singer-songwriter's ragout
That's what we need

You know there are people who believe in God, but not in medicine?
And they talk to me about Italy, how it used to be
I'm against prejudices, but your face
Makes me think only of the leader and cocaine

Okay, they're crazy, but we're depressed
Since we made the Lateran agreements
And like Gianna, I've seen a different world
Somewhere in the multiverse
And woe to those who try to change things
Lady D-D-D

I'm not interested
In your reasons, your artificial thinking
Where it comes from and where it goes
Your existence
Is locked in a cultural prison
I won't come to visit you

Hey, how much will you give me?
I'll do whatever you want
Without a sense of shame
They will never stop me
But can't you see I'm hungry?
Two thousand euros, three stories
A singer-songwriter's ragout
That's what we need

For the Flaminio stadium
For the Vittoria arena
For the important choices
That don't make history
For those who just can't
Look for work at parties
For the daughters of no one
For those who are all roast and no smoke

Hey, how much will you give me?
I'll do whatever you want
Without a sense of shame
They will never stop me
But can't you see I have children?
Two thousand euros, three stories
A singer-songwriter's ragout
That's what we need

A singer-songwriter's ragout
That's what we need

I have to write a hit that's not a hit
One of those you're ashamed to sing
That no one likes
But everyone knows

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