[4D acoustic sound spacial simulation for stereo speakers] [intro: curimbó log drum fill and hooking impact] [verse: Cavaquinho and maracas jamming] Don't you say a little beautiful things? Blue eyes and blonde hair. I'm wearing clothes like a doll. Custom-made clothes smaller than that cute child. Flowers like a picture, patterns like brands worn by models, computer art like photos. [bridge: pau-de-chuva, rainstick, falling seed texture, Amazonian forest ambience with Rabeca sweeping] I'm tied up with rainbow-like stripes, my face is paralyzed with a smile, and I'm braided plastic jewels on my hair that doesn't grow if I cut it. I'm not your slave, I don't even know the rules of youth, you abandoned me before that. [chorus: festival chanting] Did you want a boy? I'm also half made of a man. Bottoms like a strange man in the land of dreams and a skirt that a girl dreams of. We are torn apart in the front and back of the earth, heaven and hell, dreams are torn apart and become garbage. Flower garden? That's your brain. [Cavaquinho and Rabeca chasing solo] It seems like I'm always floating in thick-soled boots. If you don't like it, throw it like crumped paper. I'm too soft to leave a single crack. It's not a pair that doesn't have anything, it's not even similar, it's made of something that someone threw away and someone picked it up. [verse2] Hey, isn't it beautiful? Looking at it with blue eyes, looking at it with black eyes, my heart is white. You can see my naked body. because it doesn't produce anything just by being shaped like a person, a body that doesn't even discharge, only a cavity, no holes or bones, nothing. [pre chorus] At most, all I know is what is written in sunburned fashion and oil-soaked newspapers. The tragic incident that everyone has forgotten and the face of the model whose name has been forgotten without a shadow now. [chorus: festival chanting] Did you want a boy? I'm also half made of a man. Bottoms like a strange man in the land of dreams and a skirt that a girl dreams of. We are torn apart in the front and back of the earth, heaven and hell, dreams are torn apart and become garbage. Flower garden? That's your brain.
