Parmesan Vault

Lyrics

[Intro]
Forget Wall Street.
Forget the City of London.
We're going to Reggio Emilia.
Take a deep breath.
That ain't paper. That ain't code.
That's money you can smell.

[Verse 1]
The Maestro Casaro rolls them in.
Ninety pounds a piece.
Stamped with the day they were born.
Milk and salt and time.
He needs a loan. For the farm, for the herd.
He don't show 'em a spreadsheet.
He shows 'em the wheels.
And the man from Credito Emiliano, he just nods.
Takes the cheese.
Locks it in a cool, dark room.

[Chorus]
This is the bank where your collateral breathes.
Where the asset gets older, and sharper, and better.
Where the interest accrues in crystalline flecks.
The smell of money is nutty and sweet.
With just a little bite of ammonia.
This is the bank where your collateral is cheese.

[Verse 2]
Inside the vault, it's eighty-five percent humidity.
Sixteen degrees Celsius.
Rows on rows of wooden scalere, stretching up to God.
Half a million wheels.
And the stagionatore, the cheese-turner, he walks the aisles.
Or maybe it's the robot now.
Listening.
Tapping each one with a little silver hammer.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Looking for the flaw, the crack, the hollowness.
Auditing the investment.

[Chorus]
This is the bank where your collateral breathes.
Where the asset gets older, and sharper, and better.
Where the interest accrues in crystalline flecks.
The smell of money is nutty and sweet.
With just a little bite of ammonia.
This is the bank where your collateral is cheese.

[Bridge]
They talk about derivatives.
They talk about crypto, about shorts and longs.
Invisible numbers that can vanish in a blink.
This? You could drop this on your foot.
This is real.
Fausto Lusetti, he ain't worried about a market crash.
He's worried about mites.
If the whole system goes belly up tomorrow...
...we just grab some bread and a bottle of Lambrusco.
The most solvent bank in the world.

[Outro]
Still doing it.
Since the 1200s.
Still good.
Still gold.