¶ My name is Pasquale Caffiero and I'm a prison brigadier My name is Pasquale Caffiero and I've been in jail since 1953 And at the hundredth chain I feel like a *** at night Luckily I have a special man in my arms, he talks to me All day long with four drunkards, drunkards, faggots, crooks All the time with this old woman who spits on me, she's my daughter But in the end I feel like a father, I get up and read the newspaper I talk to Don Raffaele, he explains to me what he thinks and we drink coffee Ah, what a nice coffee, even in jail years ago With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him First page, twenty news, twenty-one injustices, what does the state do? It gets angry, it gets angry, it gets angry, then it throws the sponge with great dignity My brain dries my forehead, luckily there is someone who answers me To that man, very chosen, I ask Don Raffaele for consent A gallant man who has six children, he bought a house and gives us advice I ask for an advisor, may God forgive him, between the rolls and the baby's dreams I want to give you a hand, a voice, like you, Christ, raise the cross With respect, I make a retreat, I want to give you a reward, I wanted a coffee Ah, what a nice coffee, even in jail years ago With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him Ah, what a nice coffee, even in jail years ago With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him Like some inflation, like valuation, like abortion, that, that, that I don't have a pension, I don't have a stipend, I don't have a passport Add me to the list of innocents, your husband doesn't have patience I don't ask you for grace for me, I shave your beard, I did it myself You have a camel hood, calm down, the trial will be more beautiful A brown dress, that's what it looked like on television For this wedding, I ask you, Your Excellency, to lend me your presence I already have the shoes and the vest, I liked the countryside, I wanted a coffee Ah, what a nice coffee, even in jail years ago With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him Ah, what a nice coffee, even in jail years ago With a recipe like Cirinella's, with a bath that his mother gave him Here there is no more decorum, golden prisons, but who has ever seen it, who knows? Who suffers, but who does nothing, if they have immunity Don Raffaele, you, politically, I swear to you, it would be useless Maybe you have been paid, and you, who know, are making money By the way, I have a brother who has been unemployed for 15 years Who has made 50 contests, 90 questions and 200 recourses You, who give comfort to work, eminence, I kiss you, I implore you Who sleeps with his mother and with me, the cream of anger that you drank on the coffee