Se ci credi tu | EmilianoManciniSongwriter

Se mio nonno fosse morto in Australia
avrei avuto un trapassato remoto.
Avrei voluto un futuro da sogno ma quel che ho avuto, è un passato imperfetto.

Io gioco col verbo anche se ho la terza media
come fossi in una commedia trasformata in tragedia.

Noi siamo liberi di fare quello che non ci va
Siamo gli schiavi volontari di questa società
Siamo seguaci devoti di ogni pubblicità
Padroni delle nostre vite, ma senza autorità.

Quando credi che sia tutto finito è il momento
che di credere hai smesso.
Potrà sembrarti un paradosso
ma tu non tenti, se la speranza hai rimosso.

Io gioco col verbo anche se non ne ho l'autorità
segno evidente dell'assenza d'ogni cenno di maturità

Noi siamo liberi di fare quello che non ci va
Siamo gli schiavi volontari di questa società
Siamo seguaci devoti di ogni pubblicità
Padroni delle nostre vite, ma senza autorità.

È arrivato il momento di dare una svolta
di prender coscienza e raddrizzare la testa.
È arrivato il momento, anche se non ne ho voglia
metto a posto la testa e non dimentico

Che siamo liberi di fare quello che non ci va
Siamo gli schiavi volontari di questa società
Siamo seguaci devoti di ogni pubblicità
Padroni delle nostre vite, ma senza autorità.

There are songs that are born from a wound, yet choose to tell of it with a smile.
This one begins amidst shifting verb tenses, wordplay, and dreams transformed into imperfect memories. It may seem like a comedy at first, but it gradually reveals a more tragic side: that of a life lived according to rules, desires, and models that often do not truly belong to us.
Work serves as the starting point for this reflection, but the journey leads much further afield. It speaks to the freedom we believe we possess, the influence of advertising, and the chains we sometimes voluntarily choose to wear.
Then, just when everything seems to have come to an end, a possibility remains: to keep believing, to lift one’s head once more, and to try changing direction.

If my grandfather had died in Australia,

I would have had a remote past

(In Italian, this is a double pun: "trapassato remoto" is the grammatical name for the past perfect tense, but "trapassato" also means "passed away/deceased" and "remoto" means "far away". Since Australia is geographically remote from Italy, a grandfather dying there would literally be a "deceased person far away", creating a perfect linguistic short-circuit with the name of the tense).

I would have wanted a dream future, but what I got is an imperfect past

(In Italian, "passato imperfetto" is both the imperfect tense and a past life that was flawed and full of mistakes. While "imperfect past" works in English, the immediate grammatical connection to a single specific tense is softer than in Italian).

I play with verbs

(In Italian, "il verbo" means "the verb" but also carries a heavy philosophical/religious weight, as in "The Word" or Logos. Playing with it implies playing with the very fabric of language and reality)

even though I only finished middle school,

like I’m in a comedy turned into a tragedy.

We are free to do what we don’t feel like doing.
We are the willing slaves of this society.
We are devoted followers of every advertisement.
Masters of our lives, yet without any authority.

When you believe that everything is over, it is the moment when you have stopped believing.
It may seem like a paradox, but you don't even try if you have removed hope.

I play with verbs even though I don't have the authority, a clear sign of a total lack of maturity.

We are free to do what we don’t feel like doing.
We are the willing slaves of this society.
We are devoted followers of every advertisement.
Masters of our lives, yet without any authority.

The time has come to turn things around, to become aware and hold our heads high.
The time has come, even though I don't feel like it, I pull myself together and I don’t forget

That we are free to do what we don’t feel like doing.
We are the willing slaves of this society.
We are devoted followers of every advertisement.
Masters of our lives, yet without any authority.