Dead

The poet is dead
It's me and my friends
At a funeral
And we're not crying

Clowns dressed as hippies are dancing around
Playing little trumpets and a bass drum around
The priest doesn't know what to say
You can tell someone's on cocaine

I've been in this place when I was young
Riding my bike when I was young
Hearing a voice crackle in my head
Hearing a voice say, "You're not..."

(Dead, dead, dead, dead)
The poet is dead
(Dead, dead, dead, dead)
It's me and my friends
(Dead, dead, dead, dead)
At a funeral
We're not crying

Dead, dead, dead, dead
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Dead, dead, dead, dead

I've been in this place when I was young
Riding my bike when I was young
Hearing a voice crackle in my head
Hearing a voice say, "You're not dead"
I've been in this place when I was young
Riding my bike when I was young
Hearing a voice crackle in my head
Hearing a voice say–



Credits
Writer(s): Pier Danio Forni, Pietro Garrone, Tommaso Medica
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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