[C17] Disco Asylum (Feat. C. Du Bois Coelho)

It's some weeks I am trying to close it. Kinda "unblocked" after a chat with a friend (well, talking was made by me, but still...). I know, it's way too long. But, after all today, at least here (dunno in your country), it's "Dad day". *** *** *** Twenty years ago, I was a small girl And he was my hero, my rock, my world Holding me up, throwing me in the sky I discovered I had wings and so I could fly Landing was safe, directly in his arms Made of chrome and steel, but still, they felt warm And as mãe complained about those silly stunts He launched me still higher, ignoring her grunts And he taught me his stupid jig His smile so fixed, idiotic and big My mãe joined us, holding our hands Showing me that every revolution starts with a dance "Millie, tu as la beauté de mãe et mon feu" He seemed a god (so little I knew) "Camille, chega de brincadeira, é hora de estudar" She said coldly, (dreams don’t take you far) Ten years ago, I was a petite woman But still a girl when he held me and spun He still tried to launch me, despite my protest While I hid my laughter and played unimpressed On his face every time a new fresh injury For the world he was "the Harrier," not just Harry A boxer, a warrior, a heavyweight king A cube of chrome, his ambition took wing And he kept doing his stupid jig His smile still fixed, idiotic and big My mãe away, throwing a glance He taught me that every revolution starts with a dance "Millie, tu as les yeux de mãe et mon cœur" But I started to see him, (his flaws laid bare) "Camille, você tem aulas de dança" (pulling me far from his extravaganza) Five years ago, my mãe walked away 'Cause he was more machine every day Plates on his body, cyber bones, arms and legs Red eyes flickering, drugs running through his veins But his heart was still flesh, a weak spot indeed Like his brain, as it sank in the rot and the greed Still unbeaten, but oh, what a cost— His sanity, his joy, and his wife all lost But he kept doing his stupid jig No longer a joke, his grin still big His eyes so empty, lost in trance He taught me that revolution sometimes ends with a dance "Millie, j’espère que tu es plus rapide que ta maman" His last words before the madness began Tearing down the house, swinging arms like a mace (He stopped his fists just an inch from my face) (But he was my papa, I couldn’t hate him) (He taught me to fly, no matter his sins) (Most of his chrome removed, his mind blank) (He became a loser, a renegade, a drunk) Until one day he smiled again and moved to NC A grin mad, not psychotic—a difference hard to see He managed—don’t know how—to rise once more As one of the city's finest, not lost like before He was happy, at least on surface This shitty city gave him a new purpose A dream like a movie, bound to flop Now he's just another NC dead cop But I keep making that stupid jig Maybe one day I will teach it to my kids I have none, my love life is my only fiasco but when time will come, we will dance his Disco.