| Softly in the evening dusk, a women is singing to me
|
| She takes me back, down the vista of my years until I see
|
| I see a child underneath, the piano in the boom of the tingling strings
|
| Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings
|
| Cucurucu, cucurucu
|
| Softly now in the evening dusk a women is singing to me
|
| And she takes me back down the vista of my years until I see
|
| A boy, a child underneath the piano in the boom of the tingling strings
|
| Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings
|
| Yearning to belong yearning to belong
|
| My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong
|
| In spite of myself and all of these nursery songs
|
| My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong
|
| Till the melodies of childish days, are upon, upon me
|
| And they take me back, back down the river
|
| They keep leading me on, they lead me till I see
|
| That all of my manhood is cast
|
| Down in the flood of remembrance, and I weep like a child for the past
|
| Sing cucurucu, cucurucu
|
| Singing cucurucu, cucurucu
|
| I see a child underneath the piano in the boom of the tingling strings
|
| Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings
|
| Listen to me son, I tell you why your father’s strong
|
| Cause he can still say every single day he’s yearning to belong
|
| Yearning to belong, yearning to belong
|
| My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong
|
| In spite of myself and all of these nursery songs
|
| My heart beats with a ceaseless weeps with a peace-less burning to belong
|
| Singing cucurucu, cucurucu
|
| Singing cucurucu, singing cucurucu
|
| Cucurucu, cucurucu |