Tropicália (Mario C 2011 remix)

Quando eles batem numa guitarra quebrada
As ruas tem um charme bem tropical
As embaixadas que ficam sem opções
Onde os turistas roncam e se decompõem

Você dançou em pleno fogo cruzado
Se mascarou, e vai voltar pro passado
Passou calor (?) equatorial
Não tem confete, não tem mais carnaval

You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be evicted

Maré de azar, cantam canções funerárias
Pros garanhões, que são bronze e anabólicos
Vão tropeçar na neblina do milênio
Até caírem e se desinflarem

You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be evicted

Oh now you've had your fun under an air-conditioned sun
It's burned into your eyes, leaves you plain and left behind
I see them rise and fall into the jaws of a pestilent love

You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be a victim



Credits
Writer(s): Beck David Hansen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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