Samba And Love
I make samba and love till much later
And I am very sleepy when morning comes
I heard the burning rush of the city
That brings tomorrow faster
In the wee hours we still make love
And the factory whistles begin to blow
The traffic circles around our bed, complaining
Of our eternal stretching
On the lap of my welcomed friend
In the body of the blessed guitar
I make samba and love throughout the night
I have no one to explain myself to
I make samba and love until much later
And I have much more to do
I hear the burning rush of the city, screeching
Why is it so hard for dawn to arrive
I am not sure if lazy or a coward
Under my wool blanket
I make samba and love until much later
And I am very sleepy when morning comes
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