Baiamonti.

Baiamonti, Baiamonti fumed

It’s a quarter past seven in the morning

They drink whisky their hands shake

The filthy windows

The street can’t be seen

Baiamonti

Baiamonti

Fumed

Behind the old gas station

At nine a bell tolls

The old Istrian women go to church

here an exodus begins every morning

it’s in your plate at dinner time