Poesia de Sexta-feira

ADL (Além da Loucura) ADL (Além da Loucura)

Friday's Poetry

Friday is tough to sleep in the wee hours
At the bar warm beer, in bed cold woman
In my pocket I check the load, from the window I check the weather
Soundtrack of the moment, light rain on the roof
I see the revolver next to the Bible, remember what the pastor revealed
Talked about my life but I didn't understand what was going on
I was at the bar door, a guy arrived, pulled and shot
Then he got on the back of the motorcycle, went against traffic and took off
I, a man of little faith, at the time I was a bit wary
But if I'm standing today it's because my mother is on her knees

I become more dangerous as I feel more afraid
And if I have to cry, let them cry first
Quickly grab a bitter whiskey, mix it with a sweet kiss
Death comes only in lingerie, dances the midnight waltz
With a soft and seductive voice, telling me to jump
And another voice whispers in my ear, saying I have a daughter to raise
With blood in my reasoning, she walks through the slum
Waiting for the next victim to fall into the crime by parachute
Who's knocking on the door at this hour?
I hear the dog barking
If you're going to shoot, it has to be to kill and in hell I'll get revenge

Hey, I hear death calling me
With a smile on my face and alcohol in my mind
Following me wherever I go
And when she comes to wake me up
I have the gun in hand, the rag and the lighter
It's gonna be trouble

I feel my jaw hurting, my mouth dry
My eyes wide open and my nose running
But fuck it, I wipe it with my sleeve
There are two of them lying down, hot dish, who refuses?
Do you miss me?
Fuck, what a nightmare
Lots of blood in an ice pool, coffin
My mother's voice giving me the blessing
God take you, God bring you back
The taste of blood and me shot on the floor
The marijuana and whiskey that calms me down
Makes me feel pleasure in having quit cocaine and not the gun

And still talk about the brightness of the stars
That illuminate the bitches dressed as princesses
It's quite possible that when leaving home
I'll be surprised by the worm on my stairs
And see my mother cry because I screwed up and made a mistake
And only remember afterwards the times she said I warned you
I know it's tough but the night is dangerous
I'm almost on a platter, at this moment I'm everything they wanted
And what I have for myself is my revolver up to my mouth
Spitting bullets dundum at anyone who messes with my family

Hey, I hear death calling me
With a smile on my face and alcohol in my mind
Following me wherever I go
And when she comes to wake me up
I have the gun in hand, the rag and the lighter
It's gonna be trouble

My heroes died shot, not from overdose
I board the 99, the psychosis increases
Playing Russian roulette laughing
I feel the enemies coming, I even see them falling one by one
Smell of death, cachaça, disgrace
I wasn't supposed to have hit that shit with everyone in the square
But the blood came in my throat when I saw the guy
Killed the friend and still laughed through the slum

I open the scavenger in the middle of the afternoon
Piece in the crack, it's pure activity buddy
What's left for me is to show my skill
Shot in the head of the first one to appear on the grid
I'm good with my fingers but the big party is tough
Any death on my back, it's a wheelchair
Exchanged shot doesn't hurt, that's what they say in the alleys
Dry snap, the story is coming to an end
In any shack, in any slum
Today is the day of reckoning so let it be as God wills
If they hit me, it will be from the front, never from behind
Confrontation, time to bet the way the devil likes it

Hey, I hear death calling me
With a smile on my face and alcohol in my mind
Following me wherever I go
And when she comes to wake me up
I have the gun in hand, the rag and the lighter
It's gonna be trouble

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  1. Poesia de Sexta-feira
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