Roberto

Coming by train last night, I swear it’s not easy, to keep love out of sight, you live in Naples, and rock me gently, tell me everything's OK, it's a perfect night, the moon’s over the sea, in your arms I cry, fresh linen at the table, the soul of lost seasons, what’s sought in a fable, we talk of a writer, called Lisa Passolini, you kiss me quietly, from the roof we’re able, to see Saint Peter's, patron saint of this place, voices drain and die, be whatever you can be, I soar like a kite, serene.