Esú

Ah
Affectionate Faction, hey, hey
Drunk and winged, drunk and winged, ayy

I feel that the gods are afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
I feel that the world is afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
I feel that the world is afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
Afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me
Afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me, ah

I compose to not decompose
Accursed poet expert in the art of Arthur Rimbaud
Waiter, bring another drink, please, I'm
Between Machado de Assis and Xangô
Sonnet of bohemian poetry, melancholy
I'm from the time when poets still made poetry
Saravá, the song of Ossanha is killing me
And who sings drives away the evils, it's not working anymore
Here you can hear the thunder's beat
Thor and his hammer, Jorge and his dragon
Heaven's circle, drum rave
The gods wanted to cry for love
Here you can hear the thunder's beat
Thor and his hammer, Jorge and his dragon
Heaven's circle, drum rave
The gods wanted to cry for love

I show how I am and I am as I can
Throwing my body into the world, an-
I show how I am and I am as I can
Throwing my body into the world, an-

I feel that the gods are afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
I feel that the world is afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
I feel that the world is afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me
Half man, half God and both are afraid of me
Afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me
Afraid of me, afraid of me, afraid of me, ah

The gods are lazy poets
Napping on the island of the line of the trace
Their pen in heat has a soft touch
They bend in the structure of the embrace's cure
I am poetry, tobacco and wine, Dionysus and Bacchus, alone
In the same space, Horus out of the nest
I open your path, I am the song of the world
And in this corner of the world I remake myself
Dance with the muses among the woods and vineyards
In this backwoods, the feeling is a deep sea
I sink into it to the bottom
Unsatisfied with the size of the world
That's why the paper became small
I write on walls, on bodies and on the common people
On the skin, on the thin line of the epidermis
Of the calm soul of the curved lines of Venus' thighs
At least my destiny is not in a
Star, caste, baste, baste, astrologers, various dialogues
Immersed in the complex content that consumes us
The pain disappears when seeing that the gods envy men

The world is the fruit of our imagination
Are we gods or their creation?
The world is the fruit of our imagination
Are we gods or their creation?
Their creation, their creation
Are we gods or their creation
Their creation, their creation
Are we gods or their creation