| He opened the door of his house he stopped to look
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| What a nice day to breathe
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| At the stop of oblivion she did not want to stop
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| She went straight, she started smoking
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| Drifting without knowing where you want to go
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| She crossed the image of that bar
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| And slowly the distance began to shrink
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| With a cold beer by the sea
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| He thoughtfully dedicated himself to dreaming
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| to remember who has been
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| To challenge a brutal future
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| With one hand in front and one behind
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| The town was almost nothing and decided to continue
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| Hunches about your future
|
| The entire pilgrimage square began to gather
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| Down and the excesses of living
|
| And in a corner they saw him howl
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| To your mindless moon
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| I give my head that knows how to fight
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| With one hand in front and the other
|
| He comes suffering, suffering for what?
|
| I don't care, but in his mind life is no longer
|
| While the square begins to distinguish how it went well
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| And those who dream begin to understand
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| The people know that the square sweeps away their pain
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| And Bacchus gathers shadows of love
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| He opened his mouth just not to apologize
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| Now the flowers look for their drawer
|
| In that corner they saw him howl
|
| To your mindless moon
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| And the certainty that knows how to fight
|
| With one hand in front and the other
|
| Still suffering, suffering and for what?
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| If he does not care, but in his mind life is no longer
|
| Always suffering, suffering and for what?
|
| I don't care, in our square life is always
|
| And the time came, which Bacchus does not forgive, to the one who betrays him |