Almost Real

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' infatuations
 All she gets is one decision
 Will she give them what they want?
 My sister, Chiara, wore tight-fitting sweaters
 Unbuttoned just so
 Chiara would squeeze every drop of attention
 Wherever she'd go
 Chiara said, "'Cesca, you must be prepared"
 Chiara would act as though 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 Heaven, 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 now 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