Onan disciples contemplating their own curves
Petting own egos
Contemporary circus maximus

She did better than me I lost for the 2 seconds
Burning russian folklore
She did better than me

Você nunca falou essas coisas
Não há luzes, não há harmonias
Distorted senses
I accept the challenge
Little did I know
That satan flirts with shaved legs
High heels, painted nails and nasty offers

Você nunca falou essas coisas
Não há luzes, não há harmonias
Olhos vagos, não há coito hospitalar

The funk beat woke me up
Between the pestilent children of life
Blood on my lungs
I lost pounds of lucidity
Where am I?
Doesn’t matter
Friend or foe I’m back