Lucio Battisti - C. S. A. R. - 1992 - Full album

The conditions are atmospheric anyway, meteorological, and it's still morning, breakfast in a cup. When she asked him if he knew the guy, the one and only, Tizio, Caio, he says, I tell you I heard, he says, I tell you I heard all the red of the blood leaving with the black. All the pumps with water in their veins start to dance and rain joyfully to consume the sliding of relationships on the asphalt. Marameo, marameo say the cupids, tighter and tighter, more than bats in the starry night, flying in the summer. But it isn't night, it's day, maybe it's summer, perhaps maybe it's summer, the races begin, everyone arriving first and she has fallen in love with the asphalt. The splash of daring and boldness and it's been a long time since I wanted to. So it suddenly occurs to her that gods exist, and she, if gods exist, would be favored by the majestic contraption in silver, a superhuman exhaust pipe with solemn little wings or cooling fins. The cars revving on the wheels, the wavy and slow patches, the rear tires take a spinning blow from the scorching radiators. Carbon combined with hydrogen, boiling and fragrant, fat in drums, poured and kneaded, mixed with shales. A flamethrower is activated, a wave oven, oceanic, a sesquipedal, thriving for universal spending, she felt like a great upheaval and urban cataracts and firemen and Din Don Dan. [DUCHESCA]