Frankie and John (07:50)

Frankie works in a ball-bearing factory,
he counts the balls
one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight
It's an intellectual work, figures are figures,
Under his own responsibility the balls are distributed:
fairly, eight each, not one more or one less
He is the counter king, his rhythm is so impressing for all
the ones who had the pleasure to see him absorbed in counting things
He keeps on counting even when he comes back home,
one, two, one, two,
the steps that divide the front door and his favourite armchair
He knows exactly in how many minutes he will fall asleep
His girl still doesn't know how could she fall in love with him
She had so many suitors just around her since she was young
one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight
and she became curious for that boy who seemed to be so sound
She found herself fallen in love with a balls counter
Frankie works in a ball bearing factory,
he counts the balls
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight
It's an intellectual work,
figures are figures,
Under his own responsibility the balls are distributed
fairly, eight each,
not one more or one less
It's difficult to amaze one who doesn't want to be amazed
It's such an amazing thing, but it is true,
and she knows
No matter how she tries, he keeps on living his eight phases life
one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight
fairly, eight each,
not one more or one less
...and she knows John...

Summertime, when things are easier
passion, intimity, delicate obscenity...
Full of sand in their trousers and full of sand in their hair,
and so full of their naked bodies, entangled like a ball of string
in a playing cat paws, and panting,
and shouting out their pleasure in time...

Time goes by, season changes, no more crying, nor sad dark days...
she's happy for she found that man
and she dare not ask anything more.
So she doesn't notice that, as the days are added to days,
something's changin', something's vanishing,
but she doesn't want to say
anything to her man , 'cause she thinks it really doesn't matter
if they stopped their gettin', if they stopped their gettin'
better...
What else could they ask?
Now it's time to try just to stay alive...just to stay alive...alive!

John found a work in a ball bearing factory,
he counts the balls
one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight...
It's an intellectual work,
figures are figures,
under his own responsibility the balls are distributed:
fairly, eight each,
not one more or one less
He is the counter king, his rhythm is so impressing for all
the ones who had the pleasure to see him absorbed in counting things
He keeps on counting even when he comes back home,
one, two, one, two,
the steps that divide the front door and his favourite armchair
He knows exactly in how many minutes he will fall asleep...
...fall asleep...fall asleep...
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, seven, seven, seven, seven...... zzzzz....