There, there’s an italian flag rising; here
there’s a bricklayer who’s falling, but,
but this tragic event will not detract
from all of the faith that the world places
on this our country wonderful
that's so full of pizza, canzoni and amor.
Despite it the '90 World Cup will begin
and our tricolour flag rising proudly to flag
so rasierte and so stiff in the wind.
Hey you, citizens of all the cities
of Europe and of the world,
why don’t you come to our stadiums
to watch to the football games?
Ah, here comes a gentleman who seems affable
he tells me: you really seem so affable,
a shot from the grandstand, he dies at my feet,
I feel a little bit sorry for him
because I’m asking where is the love
that all soccer fans in the world really should have
for all of their fellow fans spread round the cosmos
in the good name of world cup football.
Maybe it’s in the air that amplifies the dreams of better athletes.
(Cazzo!)
You my favourite world class player, go, don’t worry if you don’t score.
Come on, my favourite world class player, go, pull a cinnamon.
How lovely, world class player, it would be, you know, 22 balls on the field.
Everyone shoots at the goal that they like and nobody castigates them.
And in the end Luca of Montezuma
from his Aztec helicopter will redistribute the gate.
Uh-oh, here comes Bertoli in his wheelchair,
who is affirming, “La vita è bella,
perché le cabine son strette ma largo è lo stadio
solo alla morte non c’è rimedio”.
And all in all Bertoli I envy
because he can fly at full speed
from up in the grandstand to down on the pitch while they play,
unimpeded and going for the goal.
The grand goes wild as Pierangelo flies.
The goal is the great blue phone-box,
the telephone kiosk of love.
(Arca puttana!)
First, world class player, it's for free, you know,
after you enter right into the tunnel.
But the tunnel, world class player, you should know, should know
is not the one that leads you to the game,
but indeed, my favourite world class player, is that
of marijuana injections.
You my favourite world class player, go, don’t worry if you don’t score.
Come on, my favourite world class player, go, pull a cinnamon.
How lovely, world class player, it would be, you know, 22 balls on the field.
Everyone shoots at the goal that they like and nobody castigates them.