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have done so, I can not do anything. First of all the words. Or better securities. It is they who will influence my opinion on a book, a movie, a piece of music. that's how I decided that ' A guide to Recognize my saints ' would be one of Dito Montiel of those films that you do not forget before to see him and that ' The Book of Bernardo Soares ' by Fernando Pessoa I would leave deep scars before they even smell it. In the same way I decided that my favorite song on the new album is the last of the Canadians, Open Letter to an alpine marmot . You can still make your idea listening to the whole album ' The fall of 1960 ' world premiere about two weeks the release date of the record, or April 9, 2010. Enjoy it!

PS And while you're at a date ' look at the pictures taken by Sciaini http://www.flickr.com/photos/sciain/ , author of the magnificent shot on the cover.

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the little dark sources.

sources are small dark

those from which we draw water

like the land of the cemetery to our ideals.

are bright spots of salt tears.

dig face to each path is always the same

from the deep wounds of our fear

awareness shewn sterility.

There was a time in which I loved.

There is a time in which to continue the journey begun is the priority.

I stranded at the heart of the baggage that weighed me down

and with difficulty I face if they call me,

been so great is the fury give me a new name.

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The breath of the black man.

I hung the bunny

With its cold hands

between her thighs

Ho impiccato il coniglietto

Mentre cercavo

Di schivare le sue premure

I locked and bound him tightly

stared at the blue wall

And the picture with the caricatures

To not understand

I caught the rag doll

took the braids

And he tightened around his mouth

To prevent them from calling for help

I caught the rag doll

I could not even call for help

The locked entry from its perversion

I hung the doll piece

The filth of his thoughts

Spread on top of me

I tricked the bear

Air ears

warm breath on his face

Too close

Too

I tricked the bear

Pratiche adulte

Nell’attesa di Babbo Natale

Ho impiccato l’orsacchiotto

Aveva visto tutto

E sapeva troppo

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away from me.

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will see me walking

tanned

on a carpet of violet petals,

in a road as wide as me

and long As the infinite.

only

I see I do love

drunk

on a platform in the sea, sitting on my passion

and surrounded by an impalpable placenta, which filters the light to
not disturb me.

only

I'll see rolling

sweaty

down a mountain of sand, while the wind
deforms the landscapes
and paths intertwine
friends without ever touching.

only

I shall be exploring space

blind

looking for that hug
that those who do not know me
me in exchange of anise and cinnamon.

only

I'll see about

in tears

a phone that does not understand that I was not cowardly
. It strikes me

hot words that make your eyes bleed.

only

will see me undress

love

to make them understand that now that I took
I shall keep
even though the game not fun anymore.

only

caress the moon I'll see

thrilled

where sky and sea is a buzz around us and
multiforme
island and amplifies.

only

Because sooner or later you will go all away.