Pára-raio

Barefoot in a small space
Lying in a waxing room
Pale, warm, spirit absent
Silent, body closed
I don't trace, I don't follow, I'm not obliged
I don't keep secrets, I'm not well-endowed
Head made, vision on the road
I forget fear, I don't cry for nothing

In the arm of the sea
Right at the tip of the sand
The earth trembles, time saws
Who controls the rain is the wind
Who controls the rain is the wind

And lightning rod
Windmill

And lightning rod
And stops time
And stops

And lightning rod
Windmill