A Cantaros

You and me, girl
We are made of clouds
But who ties us down?
Give me your hand
And let's sit down
Under any statue,
It's time to live
And to dream and to believe
That it has to rain
In buckets.
We are kneaded with freedom,
Girl
But who ties us down?
Have your mud ready,
Your place chosen,
Your march prepared.
Life must hurt
Until we believe
That it has to rain
In buckets.
They will continue sleeping
In their bank accounts
Of security.
They will plan to sell life
And death and peace,
Shall I put ten meters, in
Comfortable installments, of happiness?
But you and I know that there are
Signs announcing
That the nap is ending
And that a strong rain
Without bioenzymes, of course,
Will clean our house.
Life must hurt
Until we believe
That it has to rain
In buckets.