Aquele Um

He came down
In the center of a bar table
A strange saint
He sniffed, smoked, didn't spit,
I don't know.....
And played the piano
Said he was 'that one'
From the slums
The saint of bed
Of the poorly loved
Someone from the center asked his point
Then the saint replied:
My point is anyone
With a bookie and a taxi

Zarakiê, Zaraquiê, Zoroquiê
Zaraquiê, Zoroquiê
Zô