This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
Il carretto passava e quell'uomo gridava, "Gelati"
Al ventuno del mese i nostri soldi erano già finiti
Io pensavo a mia madre e rivedevo i suoi vestiti
Il più bello era nero coi fiori non ancora appassiti
All'uscita di scuola i ragazzi vendevano i libri
Io restavo a guardarli cercando il coraggio per imitarli
Poi, sconfitto, tornavo a giocar con la mente i suoi tarli
E alla sera al telefono tu mi chiedevi, "Perché non parli?" (Mm, mm)
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
I giardini di marzo si vestono di nuovi colori
E le giovani donne in quei mesi vivono nuovi amori
Camminavi al mio fianco e ad un tratto dicesti, "Tu muori"
"Se mi aiuti, son certa che io ne verrò fuori"
Ma non una parola chiarì i miei pensieri
Continuai a camminare lasciandoti attrice di ieri (mm)
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
Al ventuno del mese i nostri soldi erano già finiti
Io pensavo a mia madre e rivedevo i suoi vestiti
Il più bello era nero coi fiori non ancora appassiti
All'uscita di scuola i ragazzi vendevano i libri
Io restavo a guardarli cercando il coraggio per imitarli
Poi, sconfitto, tornavo a giocar con la mente i suoi tarli
E alla sera al telefono tu mi chiedevi, "Perché non parli?" (Mm, mm)
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
I giardini di marzo si vestono di nuovi colori
E le giovani donne in quei mesi vivono nuovi amori
Camminavi al mio fianco e ad un tratto dicesti, "Tu muori"
"Se mi aiuti, son certa che io ne verrò fuori"
Ma non una parola chiarì i miei pensieri
Continuai a camminare lasciandoti attrice di ieri (mm)
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
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@JayZlo it's almost like he (the singer) is hopelessly neurotic. To a neurotic, everyone else seems to be acting a part, trying to look appropriate. Eleanor Rigby putting on the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. It reminds me of a scene in the book Nausea, by Sarte, where the obviously neurotic protaganist is watching someone in a phone booth, he can't hear the conversation, but it seems to the neurotic watcher that the guy in the booth is some kind of actor, like not real.