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But what do you do in life? I am a dreamer, it requires dedication and perseverance; it’s not an easily learned profession, nor is it easily practiced. It takes experience, time, personal turmoils, more or less profound; you need to possess a certain culture to deny day by day, and then there is the awareness of solitude, dark and gloomy that never abandons you, but we dreamers allow ourselves to know this, thank heavens.
There is no salary, sure I can decide when to dream and how, but I must always consider the amount of time I spend dreaming, and it’s not little. But once I dream, oh my dear once I dream there’s nothing for anyone, the infinite trees of Gino Paoli are trifles, everything dissolves. You don’t dream with drugs, or when you sleep, or when you make love, you dream when you wish to. You learn it little by little, the first times you’re dreaming, you don’t even realize it, you concentrate so much, you’re so consumed with learning the craft that you end up inside without understanding it. Yet afterwards it’s all a descent down a gentle slope that, if you’re good enough, leads you to forget to exist. We dreamers don’t do all this out of sheer selfishness or to pity ourselves, it’s love, it's about love; see, it’s that we’re damnably oppressed, well, you might say who isn’t, but excluding those who can’t or won’t admit it to themselves, who do you think can channel their love generated from the pain of oppression from daily discomfort, injustice, incoherence, arrogance, superficiality, intolerance, do you think it doesn’t generate an immeasurable dose of love in us, forced to tolerate it? There, we vent with dreams, all that excess love would otherwise tear us apart, torture our souls, not give us a moment of respite. No, I know what you’re thinking, by dreaming so much you think I’ve mixed reason with self-love and morality, nothing more right. We base ourselves on the ethics of the actuality of things, even though we spend our time building scenarios for ourselves, we burn with desire so that they can be shared by everyone; we don’t isolate ourselves in utopias but share a solitary project based on pure ethics, mind you, nothing abstract. Each of us knows exactly what we want, otherwise, we would be lost.
It is difficult, I’m forced to repeat myself I know, but it’s damn difficult to understand that we are dreamers; everything is at stake, our education, our practical experiences, our thoughts intended both as notions and as intellect, and finally our final actions; yes because once we reach that slope, where our love gushes forth, where unarmed we finally know what stands before us and we know where we want to go, we no longer set limits for ourselves. The ethics, there lies the dream, there lies the reality, there we are. See, how lucky we are, today there’s much demand for dreamers, there’s much more awareness, today the new generations take a handful of years to become trained dreamers, isn’t it amazing? Just think, let’s say, only two centuries ago how limited and deviated the circle of aspiring dreamers was and how difficult it was to gather the notions to adequately perform the craft. But we made it, I say, we made it, I can say it; and I’ll tell you we'll always make it, should we go through everything we mean by the conception of evil.
We made it because in the United States there is a president who descends from the same continent where millions of slaves were uprooted, we made it because at Campo dei Fiori once blood flowed and not rose petals, we made it because my great-grandfather lived in hardships and deprivations without the fascist party card or because the era of the evil dwarf that my generation saw sacrilegiously infringe upon the rule of law is over, and we’ll always make it, despite the conspiracies, the lobbies, the crimes, the cynicism, the ignorance, we’ll make it because eradicated, uprooted by our ancestors they will also be uprooted in that world that we arrogantly call developing, and we’ll make it because there are always more of us dreaming.
These my dear are the basics I told you, it’s just a taste, there are no limits; but never dare to believe that your dreams are futile or that you are wasting time, we wouldn’t have all that you see in front of you now. And now go, don’t wake up and don’t remember what I haven’t told you.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 They Took a Vote and Said No (03:43)
One, two, three...
Bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum
Bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum
Bum-ba-da-dum, Ba-duh-dum
They took his kids
He was right
They took his ears
They took his eyes
They said a ride is never free
He couldn't hear, he couldn't see
Well, there are things that have to die
So other things can stay alive
The fire burns, it burns to give
It has to burn alive to live
The other men spoke low;
They took a vote and said no
They turned around real slow
Where did they go, where did they go?
And the question, oh the question
Can the kid keep his eyes
If the fire doesn't die, say no
Say no
Say, "You don't know what king we serve, boy,
Oh you don't know what things we employ!"
The other men spoke low
They took a vote and said no
They turned around real slow
Where did they go, where did they go?
Bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum
Bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum, bum-ba-da-dum
Bum-ba-da-dum, Ba-duh-dum
And the question, oh the question
Can the kid keep his eyes?
If the fire doesn't die
Can the kid keep his eyes?
And the question, oh the question
Can the kid keep his eyes?
If the fire doesn't die
I said, be careful what you wish for
Oh be careful what you wish for
And be careful 'round the fire tonight
And be careful 'round the bright, bright lights
'Cause the fire never dies so the kid lost his eyes
Oh, that's how it goes, baby,
That's how it goes, baby,
That's how it goes, baby,
That's how it goes.
07 Swimming (03:41)
Maybe an ocean is found in the lake
Maybe exceptions to this could be made
But I’m swimming Lord, just to be saved
She always loved him, but not in the way
The way she’s supposed to, but she never claimed to
But she’s swimming Lord, just to be saved
Young lovers gathering ’round
They hold their hands on Sundays
Sundays they get down on the ground
They’ll get down on the ground for you
I say that some claims are true, some claims are true
And I say that some silly dreams… but I can’t come true, oh
Someday I’ll get down on the ground
Get down on the ground for you…
He’s getting old, he’s getting old, he’s getting old
He’s getting old, he’s getting old
And the water is cold
Bum, bum ba-da dum…
I say that some claims are true, some claims are true
And I say that some silly dreams… but I can’t come true, oh
Someday I’ll get down on the ground
Get down on the ground for you…
He’s getting old, he’s getting old, he’s getting old,
He’s getting old, he’s getting old…
Because variables lurk in the wine
Because the best one that’s cold out has a good sign
It’s never ever gonna feel right to pull the latch back again
The dust you kick up is too fine
Because variables lurk in the wine
Because the best one that’s cold out has a good sign
It’s never ever gonna feel right to pull the latch back again
The dust you kick up is too fine
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