Lettera alla pistola alla mia tempia (Skit) Lyrics – Luchè

Lettera alla pistola alla mia tempia (Skit) Lyrics Meaning

[Strofa]
In this long and emotional section, Luchè is speaking to something—or maybe someone—that represents his last hope. He sees it as the key to breaking out of a cage he feels trapped in. This cage isn’t something physical, but something inside him—mental or emotional. It’s like every day the pressure grows tighter, and even though he’s still breathing, he doesn’t feel alive. He’s admitting that sometimes he’s just been looking for something to blame for his sadness, something outside of himself. He’s asking to be freed from the weight of his tears, the pain he tries to wash away in the shower. Every step he takes burns, like he’s walking through fire, and he wishes that fire could be put out.

He says that as long as this presence exists—this symbol of escape or comfort—he still believes he could be free. But he knows freedom will only come when he finally finds the courage to face everything head-on. Right now, he feels blind, like he’s walking in the dark without any idea where to go. Then he shifts to talk about the love he gets from others. Instead of feeling comforted, it makes him feel worse. It adds to his guilt, like he’s betraying those who care about him or wasting what they give. It’s like he was handed the gift of life, but it just wasn’t what he needed. He didn’t ask for it, and it doesn’t feel right.

He wants out of this slow emotional death and begs for something that can truly heal him. He’s tired of being told to simplify who he is. He wants to be allowed to stay complex, with all his thoughts and struggles. He doesn’t want to hide that anymore. He hopes that his pain could be turned into a warning for others—something that makes people pay attention. Maybe then all his suffering would feel like it served a purpose.

He reflects on how much he’s dreamed, how big his visions were. But now those dreams seem to have backfired. He’s become his own victim. He used to dream of a world full of meaningful people who challenged the system and wanted to become something beyond ordinary. People brave enough to live boldly and take risks without fearing failure. He still believes that even choosing to give up should be a personal right. He talks directly to the gun pointed at his head like it’s the only one that holds power now. Everything depends on it because he feels like he has nothing left—no curiosity, no answers.

He brings up the saying that God tests His strongest children the hardest. He feels like he’s won every battle except the one with loneliness. He’s tried to turn loneliness into something useful or positive, but it never worked. He’s explored his emotions as deeply as anyone can, and instead of growing stronger, he ended up feeling like a burden—like he didn’t belong in a world that doesn’t carry the same emotional weight he does.

He says he’ll be forever thankful if this force, this “you,” ends things for him, because it would finally bring him peace. He sees himself as just another body with nothing left to give, someone who’s too tired to keep asking for help. He says he fought—not for himself, but for others. And in the end, those people just accepted life as it was, sitting comfortably in a prison they don’t even notice. They follow the rules, eat what’s fed to them, say what they’re told.

He doesn’t want to live like that. He wants to die with the last real beliefs still burning in him. He wants to rebel against this life that was forced on him. Even if no one believed in him, even if people laughed at him, he stuck to what he thought was right. Maybe they couldn’t help him. Or maybe only this final chance—this last possible escape—can.

He wants to be set free, to let his thoughts run wild and take on whatever form they want. He wants to break away from being compared to lifeless, robotic people. He wants to go beyond what it means to be human. Everyone else seems so happy, and he just wants someone—or something—to take him home.