Lyric

Hands resting on a cold windowsill

The gaze playing at getting lost beyond the glass

Outside, the morning is blurred by the rain

So heavy that the eye can barely keep up with it

The asphalt, the traffic, the roofs of the buildings

Everything fades into the prevailing gray

Forced pauses that invite reflection

In the storm that sweeps the windowsill

Rain on the windows, on the roofs, and on life

On what we were chasing, and what we were

Letting go, playing with your fingers

Drawing circles on fogged thoughts

That useful detachment from the grayness of everyday life

That the more you abandon yourself to it, the further it will push you

Wind that pours its fury on the world

Crushes every drop, shakes it and breaks it

Into silver rivulets that decline in disorder

Tears of a sky that has lost its reason

I reflect, and in those moments of pure suspension

I turn around and I retrace my history

I've made mistakes that are only mine

I admit them and claim them, I recite them by heart

And the echo of the rain still consoles me

It gives rhythm to my thoughts, and strength to reason

It's the useful detachment that welcomes and supports

The biological compass that gives direction

Rain on the windows, on the roofs, and on life

On what we were chasing, and what we were

Letting go, playing with your fingers

Drawing circles on foggy thoughts

That useful detachment from the gray of everyday life

That the more you abandon yourself to it, the further it will push you away

Rain on the windows, on the roofs, and on life

On what we were chasing, and what we were

Letting go, playing with your fingers

Drawing circles on foggy thoughts

That useful detachment from the gray of everyday life

That the more you abandon yourself to it, the further it will push you away

That the more you abandon yourself to it the further it pushes you