We know we're out of line
But how much beauty, how much promiscuity
Around a chair, a red sofa
On the wings of sex with breath on us
We talk on the neck, close to the ear
We are ten but the taste seems the same to us
With relaxed faces, the annoying expression
The rope is pulled

The tanned legs, the sweaty breasts, the hands on the ass
The looks that even crack the wall
No ties but only affection, a matter of bed
A matter of cigarettes until seven and then nothing more, uh uh uh uh

But how much black there is
Around the eyes, on the beards and the t-shirts
Like the red that goes from the lips to the collars
From a glass to a kiss in the toilet
We hold hands if the light goes down
And the desire rises

The tanned legs, the sweaty breasts, the hands on the ass
The looks that even crack the wall
No ties but only affection, a matter of bed
A matter of cigarettes until seven and then nothing more, uh uh uh uh

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