Zita

Who can tell me about the world, Zita
What happened to Sunday
What I got from my Ninha
Is announced in the corner, it’s a big deal!
Like a gift, your little brown eyes
From the hood, it’s a shady business

She sends to look for the eyes of the purger
Neighbor of her bald rooster
For the kid, it’s twelve births
They call it the day of seven fits
Before Christ, I didn’t see a star
Ah! Master Nhonho says to jump it

A blessed black man and another was a prisoner
In pronunciation, it was Mandela
Start to see the world in black and white
And the same arch of the bed is carbon
In these colored pencils and some crayons
And the world stops being in its own

Aunt Bibinha comes with her oratory
Midwife with her roll of cloth
And says: You all remember to give me a bath
To free him from the morning’s sign
Better we go put a talisman on him
And Zita, come on, lift your pain

Hey! You all let my kid sleep!