Almost Real Songtext

von Kelli O'Hara

FRANCESCA.
When a girl grows up in Napoli, there are roads laid out before her.
And you understand, I'm speaking of the times before the war.
When a girl grows up in Napoli, she is more or less a target for her Mama's expectations, for the boys' infacuations.
All she gets is one decision, will she give them what they want?
My sister, Chiara, wore tight-fitting sweaters, buttoned just so.
Chiara would squeeze every drop of attention wherever she'd go.
Chiara said, "'
Cesca, you must be prepared." Chiara would act as if nobody cared.
Chiara would laugh at me quiet and scared.
And I dreamed of a flat in Siena on the market square.
With a book, and a pot, and a window, and a single chair.
Far from lonesome, far from Chiara, almost real.
Paolo was a boy from down the hill, With silver eyes and hair like coal, And massive hands that trembled when he looked my way.
Paolo was a boy who loved to swim, and who knows why I fell for him.
But soon enough, I kissed him on a winter's day.
Chiara said, "'
Cesca, he's dull and he's dumb.
You'll end up a farm wife, exhausted and numb.
I'm off to the servicemens' club, you should come!" But I dreamed of the beach at Ancona, where our kids would play.
Paolo right by my side, and the ocean only steps away.
Close to Heavan, far from Chiara, almost real.
Chiara went dancing while air raid sirens were shrieking.
Chiara would open her legs just as easy as speaking.
Paolo went off with the Army and never returned, and all that Chiara could say was, "
I hope know you've learned." And the streets were rubble, and the water was filthy, and there were no cigarettes, and no haircuts, and no thinking about the future.
And I sat at the harbor, watching the American ships.
And then I looked up and I saw an American smile down at me, and I knew if I just took his hand, I could at last be free.
I could love him, I could want him, only take me from Italia, far from Chiara, far enough that I could feel almost real.