Geórgia, a carniceira
Ave Sangria
Georgia, the Butcher
Mouth where you enter
Into the forest of flowers
Carnivorous
Attention, candidates
Here everyone brings
Long pieces of purple velvet
Hanging from the bones
It's torn flesh
Georgia
The butcher of the cold swamps
Of the nights of God Satan
Bowling with the heads
Of the girls dead from heat
At the break of April mornings
Solar yeah
No one has ever seen her eyes
Two balls of blood
Rolling in space
Without falling into her arms
And then dying of love
She walks smiling
Among the ruins of the planet
Broken into a cross, into light
Into mercury dust
And white wind
And cries of pain
The Sun in her hands
Georgia
The butcher of the cold swamps
Of the nights of God Satan
Bowling with the heads
Of the girls dead from heat
At the break of April mornings
Solar yeah
