Concert Liga (First Time) in Milan, Forum of Assago.
I, Tata, Simo, Alby, Tino, Ivano, Marino, Simone and Ramona.
remember: thousands of arms raised to heaven , choirs chills, screams , Alby and his passion , Tata and his nonsense . .. remember a wonderful evening, I wanted to share with other people, but I hope to be able to make her feel a bit 'there with me.
These are the emotions that make me feel alive.
ARE HERE FOR THE 'LOVE
I'm here for love, for the curious faces that makes
For the queue at the checkout, with the balance more or less in half, for crates of paper, the key to
forgotten in the cellar for the ride of blood and that of wine.
I am here to love, to defend what I know
for launching ramps, and dirt that line the portholes
that we launch, and distant control tower,
with DIY on the fire and flames bitch.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this artifact well
one that perhaps only just.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this journey together,
in a life that might be enough. This artifact
well here ...
I am here to love, and all the noise you want.
And the bits of sky that depend only on us, for that bit 'of relief
that will snatch from the navel to the glasses down the drain, for the pride shipped,
with the bank of gravel that the first flood goes down. ..
and a name that still stands out more.
I am here to love to fill your bucket with water,
with the paper boat, that will not sink.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this artifact well, maybe only one
do.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this journey together,
in a life that might be enough. This artifact
well here ...
I am here to love, to the strange faces she does.
For the rides that are more and more helpless, out of town,
establish forever the lane that keeps us going, and we
fines and all beautiful singers.
I'm here for love, for the curious faces that makes
For the queue at the checkout, with the balance more or less in half, for crates of paper, the key to
forgotten in the cellar for the ride of blood and that of wine.
I am here to love, to defend what I know
for launching ramps, and dirt that line the portholes
that we launch, and distant control tower,
with DIY on the fire and flames bitch.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this artifact well
one that perhaps only just.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this journey together,
in a life that might be enough. This artifact
well here ...
I am here to love, and all the noise you want.
And the bits of sky that depend only on us, for that bit 'of relief
that will snatch from the navel to the glasses down the drain, for the pride shipped,
with the bank of gravel that the first flood goes down. ..
and a name that still stands out more.
I am here to love to fill your bucket with water,
with the paper boat, that will not sink.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this artifact well, maybe only one
do.
With all the blood gone bad, and then suddenly this journey together,
in a life that might be enough. This artifact
well here ...
I am here to love, to the strange faces she does.
For the rides that are more and more helpless, out of town,
establish forever the lane that keeps us going, and we
fines and all beautiful singers.
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