Love is a bar of chocolate
in the cold winter nights
when everything is still
only the mourn of wind
through the willow tree.
Love is a voice too loud
into the silent room
when you stand all alone
and dark comes far too soon.
Love is a conversation where
you are right or wrong
the only thing that matters
it can last all night long.
Love is that laugh for nothing
that brings the joy of life
and in the coldest winter
makes you feel warm inside.
Ogni tanto la ripropongo perché parlare sempre di guerra mi fa stare male.