| I'm going to sing in a first-class corner
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| The things from my change
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| Who made me a wandering guitar player
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| I'm serious and it's not loitering
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| It's for you who are now listening to me
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| I sincerely swear by the holy boy
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| Virgin Mary who hears what I say
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| If it's a lie, send me a punishment
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| I went to the singer and guitar player
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| There are only three things in this world go
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| Love, forria, viola, never money
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| Viola, forria, love, not money
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| Singer of trovas and hammers
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| From cabinets, light and mourão
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| Ai singer ran the whole world
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| I've even sang at the doors of a castle
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| Of a king who called John
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| Can you believe my companion
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| After I have sung all day
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| The king told me stay
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| I said no
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| If I had to live thank you
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| One day and before that day I die
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| God made men and animals all lining
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| I had already written in the holy book
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| That life on this earth is a passage
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| Each one carries a heavy burden
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| It is the teaching that since the change
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| I bring inside my guarded heart
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| I had a lot of pain from not having anything
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| Thinking that in this world it's all to have
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| But only after struggling on the roads
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| Beauty in the poor woman is what I went to see
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| I went to see the procession praised be
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| Haunting of abandoned houses
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| Blind choir at church doors
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| It is the wilderness of solitude on the roads
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| Treading all from the beginning
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| I'm going to show you how to make a patchola
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| That hangs the neck of the viola
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| And turns all fashion inside out
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| Without even noticing if it's night and day
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| Go today singing the good of the forria
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| Without a penny in the bowl, the singer
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| Sing the good of love until you die |