Have I really stood under the rain, waiting for you -or for the bus- for so long, and it didn't come, and I felt so dissapointed because I thought I was in the wrong bus stop, but I wasn't, it was just the bus, that didn't come. And this is obviously a metaphore, because, although I waited for the bus under the rain today, mummy came to pick me up. But nobody's gonna come and pick me up in my life. I'm never gonna get out of this crap, this routine. I want to be saved. You have got to save me. It's our fate. But you can call it Italy if you want to -A room with a view-. But it seems like I am not on your guest list. I am not part of your destiny. I am not part of you. I thought I was, but I guess I was wrong. Wrong again. Always wrong. Like in that maths exam. Wrong. But I like you more and more each time I see you. I know the place, I've been here before, it's always the same thing, up and down, right and left, but I'm never in the middle, in the middle of the play. Of your play. And I hate this. For once, I'm talking from my heart, always using metaphores, because if I didn't use them, it would be too easy. I have so many goals in my life, but it seems like yours is becoming harder and harder. And I don't like it. So now, just leave, ok?
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