From Under - Premiata Forneria Marconi

A lover collecting ladies

A poet connecting raindrops

A rock’n’roll star, a gambler’s seven

A saint on a train to heaven

If you don’t like your number

Trying to get out from under

Providence comes and offers sweetly

Swallow the dream you like

Some buy a dream crutch to survive

Somebody says, «don't sell me lies» …

So providence kindhearted lady

Sent round all her salesmen

With toy revolutions and more …

Cadillac gurus

Old jesus new circus

Blind fifties revivals

The wind up pelvis band

Keeps on playing

Still someone’s saying

«don't sell me lies»

So providence called her last friend

Heroin the charming ocean

Patient enough for every problem

Silent enough to drown so many good friends

Providence of illusion

Providence whore of fat kings

Leave them alone!

Lady you’ll never get them

Lady you’ll never win

They are miles from your zoo

Even sad

Even dying of sadness

They are the winners

Beautiful winners

They are the land of your fall