Piangere a 90

It seems like everything about love has been understood for a long time until she arrives with ambulance sirens and a bewildered feeling that you went too far with your sincerity. The words come straight from the gut, not from the head, and the heart no longer responds, as if it's been stitched up with someone else's thread. And yet laughter returns, even if it's through a bruise, through fatigue, through a stranger's flower that turned out to be a ball. In this song, pain isn't drama, but part of the game: you can cry at ninety, you can love and laugh at yourself. Everything mixed together: pride, tenderness, absurdity. But from somewhere within this imperfect mix, warmth suddenly emerges, the very warmth for which it was worth shouting: "I love you, you're strange."