“Ho Messo Via” feels like rifling through an overstuffed drawer of memories while a guitar hums in the background. Ligabue lists everything he has tried to stash away: childhood games, deafening noise, bruising mistakes, dusty photographs, even well-meaning advice. Each item is a snapshot of a life lived loudly, then folded up and pushed aside in a bid to clear some space for the future. While he pokes fun at himself for being an expert at messing up, there is a playful energy in the way he admits it—almost as if every misstep is part of the soundtrack he is proud to keep.
Yet one thing refuses to be stored: “te”—you. No matter how many illusions he boxes up, or how much room he makes in his heart, the memory of this person keeps reappearing like a stubborn chorus. The song turns into a bittersweet confession that the hardest clutter to let go of is the love that still vibrates under all the piled-up regrets. By the final refrain, the listener realizes the empty space Ligabue is carving out is not just for a cleaner life, but for the lingering hope that this irreplaceable “you” might step back in.