“I want to write that the mafia is a mountain of shit. We must rebel. Before it's too late, before we no longer notice anything!” The 100 steps of Peppino Impastato
Born on the land of evenings and oranges
Between Cinisi and Palermo he said on his radio
In the eyes you could read the desire to change
The desire for justice to bring him to fight
He had a huge and respected name
And a hundred inde the place he honored
You know where you are born, not how you die
And not if the ideal will bring you pain
But your life will now change
If you are, you are ready to travel
Roaring loud and fearless
Counting 100 steps, steps to travel
So 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 100 steps…
He could, like many, choose to leave
Instead he decided to hold on to hope
The politics, the friends, the fight of the pertitu
For the election he was encouraged
He said he would take care of them closely
But he didn't have time to be killed
The marriage of the father at night was not given
Desperate friends never found him
So tell me if you know how to count
Tell me if you know how to travel
Count and travel on time
Sing the story of Peppino
And of Sicilian friends
So 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 100 steps…
It was a dark night
Of the Italian state
May 9, '78
The night of via Caetani
It is from the body of Aldo Moro
The dawn of the burial of a state
