Vila do Sossego

Oh, I don't know if it was the ancients who said
In their papyri Papillon already told me
That in tortures all flesh betrays
That normally, commonly, fatally, fortunately
Negligently the nerve contracts
Oh, with precision

In the planes that vomited parachutes
In the bunkers, living houses, in case you die
And in my delusions crickets fear
The marriage, the breakup, the sacrament, the document
Like a pastime, I want to see you more
Oh, with distress

My treponema is not pale nor viscous
My gametes gather in my sound
And the cherubs girls revere
A submissive commitment, commotion in the tenement
Call Father Ciço to bless me
Oh, with devotion