Italian sun
Scorching through the grimy glass
Blinding a soul
Too tired to think
Of all that had been
Of all that will be

It felt good
Sitting still like an old cat
Bittersweet memories
Playing hide and seek
Behind the hills
On the crimson rooftops
Underneath the tranquil waters
Of the Lake Trasimeno

For all the battles lost or won
The toughest ones
Yet are to come
As the train rushes on