He’s the one wakin’ up in the middle of night.
Seeking his fridge, the first on the right.
Fighting to conquer and eat each and everyone cookie…
The burned skin will not stop his will to eat!
He rides his bike no matter what it takes.
His thighs are burning, it really hakes.
He will keep on resist to defend his own muffin…
In Kingston eating everything he will find on his road!
[Ch.: My Bambolardo, sweetest dream
Riding your bike through the forest of cream!
My Bambolardo you hug me…
We’re gonna fly where the eagles fly free!]
Bleeding kneels, sweat his face and his ass!
Tiny people, hunger: you shall not pass!
[You shall not pass!]
A sword made of chocolate a shield made of cream…
A glorious armour in jelly you’ ve never seen!
[Ch. var.: By Bambolardo… ]