Songs are not written

but are born from themselves

they are the things that happen

around us every day

It's enough to gather songs

there's even one for you

who are more tired of living

and never smile

songs are gypsies

and they steal poetry

they're deceptions like pills

of happiness

songs don't heal

loves and sicknesses

but that small pain

that existing gives us

will pass, it will pass

if a boy and a guitar are there

like you in the city

watching this life that doesn't work

that kills us with illusions

and with the age of songs

it will pass over us

sooner or later we'll all be done in the bank

with the whys and the maybes

and the anguishes of a rich poverty

to talk about the loves you don't have

to sing a song that you don't know how it goes

because you've lost it within yourself

and you only remember

it will pass

in a world of cars

and of high speeds

for those that always come last

for those who say goodbye

for those who beat in the obstacles

of diversity

songs are fireflies

that sing in the dark

sooner or later it will pass

this little pain that's in you,

that's in me, that's in us

and makes us feel like sailors

at the mercy of the wind and of nostalgia

to sing a song that you don't know

how it goes

but that little pain, whether it's hate or love,

it will pass

it will pass, it will pass

even if you only go "la la la"

it will pass, it will pass

and a song will be good for something

if your little pain

whether it's hate or love

it will pass