In Milan, city of appearances.
It’s fast walking, slick money talking
Bankers, high flyers with skinny ties,
Smart pants for the smarty pants.

Skinny ties, skinny shoes,
Skinny thighs, skinny boots,
Skinny women, skinny men,
It’s Stick figure city.

There’s Pasta on every corner,
But no-one eats it.

It’s stick figure pretty.

Catholic history,
Girls don’t want to fuck,
They want to marry,
‘I go to the gym religiously
Everyday, tone them abs, then spa,
Then buy a 2000 euro dress from prada,
Then another 2000 ero purchase is pushing into my bra,
And you find me attractive
And might want to have sex with me?!’
Si mia cara, you should be angry.

Like the pasta on the corner,
It’s all for show.

But I just brought my Armani garms, shaved my beard,
Hit the gym, did my hair,
I even brought nail clippers today.

Just so I can then stand at the edge of the bar,
With the pasta,
And not get eaten.