| Rangel, Viana, Golfo, Cazenga Pois
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| Marçal, Sambizanga, Calemba 2
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| One luv, sweet love
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| Djavan once told me
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| That the earth would sing when touching my feet
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| So much joy made my tee shine
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| Art is to be a part, not to be the owner
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| Nobility lives in noiz, not on a throne
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| Soon we are kings and queens, we are
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| Even among petty laws we go
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| people, just happy
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| Who really knows that Africa is not a country
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| Forget what the book says, it lies
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| Connect black skin to a contented smile
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| I respect your faith, your cross
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| But we have two hundred and fifty-six odus
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| All made of shadow and light, beautiful
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| Sensitive like candlelight
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| (tended?)
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| Rangel, Viana, Golfo, Cazenga Pois
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| Marçal, Sambizanga, Calemba 2
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| It's in the waist of the mines in Cabo Verde
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| And in the eyes of the people in Luanda
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| Not even in a dream would I know that
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| Every place I tread would give a samba
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| In a reality that grinds
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| Together with a longing that is soft but it hurts
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| So much inequality, the favela os boy
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| Behind a salary, a super hero shovel
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| Crazy so many orpheus, locked
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| In the contracts of the one who created the sin
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| Sleep like a flower on a lawn
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| And a skinny can of ally
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| Brusco pick the sing of tires
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| They say the devil came in the boats of Europeans
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| Since then, people have forgotten
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| That among my everybody was God
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| And I didn't know anymore if I was at home or if I was traveling, right bro?
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| My heart went out to all my brothers, all my sisters that I met
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| around the world, right? |
| I wanted to thank all of them...
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| Rangel, Viana, Golfo, Cazenga Pois
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| Marçal, Sambizanga, Calemba 2
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| The poet already said:
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| Africa is in the children and the world is outside
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| Thank you very much |