Vic Chesnutt
Giupetto
Giupetto! Pinnochio
Your adopted son is getting ready to go
The candle wicks are asterisks
You carved him yourself out of sticks

A propos, had to go
He loved the alps
But he hated the snow
Things switch
Chop a new niche
Soon you won't remember
Oh which one is which

Your sorrow is so silly
What's there to keep him in Italy?
What's there to keep him in Italy?

He'll send you news
How he took a cruise
Stuck his sea legs in the sailor shoes
And finally, across some sea
Finding himself all kinds of the finery

But he took a week to learn how to speak
But the language hurts
Yeah, the consonants tweak
Mute malaise, heavy haze
The reparations only partly pays
But your sorrow is so silly
What's there to keep him in Italy?
What's there to keep him in Italy?