[Intro — Portuguese guitar, painfully dramatic] Oh… I suffered, I complained… I even wrote a song about it. And in the end… it was my hip. 😂 [Verse 1] They told me, “It’s sciatica,” and I believed it too, I limped around the house all day, not knowing what to do. It hurt down here, it hurt up there, I couldn’t find my place, I sat, I stood, I walked around with tragedy upon my face. [Pre-Chorus] I wrote a fado for my pain, gave it lyrics, gave it fame, then came another diagnosis… and ruined my dramatic game! 😂 [Chorus] Turns out it was my hip, well, who would ever know? I blamed my poor sciatic nerve for putting on this show! Turns out it was my hip, inflamed and full of sass, I tried to walk a little faster, it said: “Sit down your ass!” 😂 [Verse 2] I’d already made the cover, gave sciatica a song, it was practically famous… and innocent all along! Now I’ve got another problem, and it isn’t medical: how do I tell my audience my diagnosis was fictional? 😹 [Bridge — spoken, deadly serious] Dear sciatic nerve… Please forgive me. I accused you without evidence. The real culprit was nearby… literally. 😂 [Final Chorus — increasingly joyful] Turns out it was my hip, the mystery is done! My sciatic nerve is innocent — case dismissed, everyone! So let my poor hip rest now, I’ll behave… at least today, but the minute I recover… I’m gonna dance the night away! 💃 [Outro — Portuguese guitar] Oh, hip… Behave yourself. I’ve still got concerts to give. 🎸😌
