Bigollo does not know why he is not expected
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Bigollo does not know why he is not loved
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Bigollo was not called, but he is here
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And Bigogollo is scolded, Bigo-Bigollo is dove
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Bigollo draws on stones
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Dust has long settled on the belts
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Like the head of bulls on a pond
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The herd goes to water
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Praying monk
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Under the water
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Giving the soul to the body, as in dreams
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They beat their hooves on the water, like on the shore
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No one's rain is beating from the clouds,
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But the monk takes the blows
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He does not soar, he feeds the stream
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Hundred years of time epochs
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God bathed in that stream
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He salted the sky like pulp
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Removing in the shadow of centuries
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The vices of fools are like a rash on the body
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Invisible hands caress the crown
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And a fire is visible from a mile away
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Grains grow through the palm
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And the old man's head fits the volume
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But the wind will fall and split the house
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The years will take the reins of the bulls
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Kings and slaves, cities and love
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The monk will raise the water
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Cries out the almanac of new days
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Nothing will be in dreams
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The pain will settle in people's ribs
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Bigollo does not know why he is not expected
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Bigollo does not know why he is not loved
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Bigollo was not called, but he is here
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And Bigogollo is scolded, Bigo-Bigollo is dove
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Bigollo draws on stones
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Dust has long settled on the belts
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Like the head of bulls on a pond
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo)
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(Bigollo) |