Chicco has a scar on his face
He's with his brother who calls himself Spillo
And they already know how to shoot like cowboys

Chicco tries to heat his spoon in the sun
Spillo is stealing another scooter
The marshal looks at Italy from inside a bar

Old mattresses, tires, sinks, broken toilets
Dicks drawn on the cuckold's building
Africans at the station, the barber's lawyer
Another Alberto Sordi movie on television

Chicco is at home with his face on the radio
Which broadcasts the advice column
And he would like to ask how to
Rob a bank
And escape without untying his shoes
And go where no one ever spits at you
And wants to get you in trouble

Concrete pipes, boxes, diapers
Garbage bags put up like poles by children
The Red Cross ambulance, someone is sick
The priest prepares the church for the funeral

Spillo has locked happiness in a handkerchief
But it dried up in a blessed second
Hello who's speaking
It's Chicco, come here, this time it's the real deal
Just a screwdriver to enter paradise
A screwdriver
Wait for me, I'm coming
I'll take the scooter and be there in a minute

But do you realize how much money this is
And how easy it was to steal it
Finally we can buy whatever we want
Explain to me why you're not talking
Leave it, be quiet, I don't feel like talking
We're almost done, let's go
Run, hurry don't stop, run, damn, don't turn around
The siren is that of the police

Chicco and Spillo jump like two cats on the saddle
And they squirt full throttle
Sons of bitches
You'll never catch us
Look at the mess, look where you're going to end up, I'm also cold
And I'm afraid of dying
Be careful
Be careful
Brake
Goodbye

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