.Giorni senza fine, croci lungomare
Profughi siriani, costretti a vomitare
Colpi di fucile, sudore di cantiere
Nel cortile della scuola, stese ad asciugare
Canottiere rosse, rosse a sventolare
Se mi dai la mano, ti porto a navigare
E se mi accarezzi, e lo lasci fare
Câè qualco.
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