Rino Gaetano flips through an imaginary photo-album of Italian life in the 1970s, rattling off one colorful character after another: the factory worker who sweats for his wages, the gambler chasing millions, the farmer sweeping courtyards, the dreamer who only eats once a day. Each lightning-fast snapshot is a social x-ray that exposes economic gaps, regional prejudices, small everyday joys, and quietly simmering injustices. The dizzying roll call feels almost like a carnival announcer shouting Who’s next?, reminding us how many different stories can exist on the same crowded street.
Then, like a wink to the listener, the refrain lands: “Ma il cielo è sempre più blu” – “But the sky is always bluer.” Is it an ironic shrug, saying nothing ever really changes? Or a hopeful reminder that we all share the same sky no matter our fortunes? Gaetano leaves the question hanging, letting the line shine above the chaos. In just a few minutes he turns a simple list into a playful yet piercing meditation on unity, inequality, and the stubborn resilience of everyday people.