O Homem Velho

The old man leaves life and death behind
Head held high, he moves on and never, never again
The great mirror that is the world would dare to reflect his signs
The old man is the king of the beasts

Loneliness now is solid, a stone in the sun
The lines of fate in his hands have faded away
He’s got a soul saturated with poetry, soul, and rock 'n' roll
Things migrate and he serves as a beacon

The flesh, the art burns, the afternoon falls
In the abyss of the corners
The breeze carries and brings the fleeting scent
Of the girls' sex

Cold light, his hair has the sadness of neon
Beauties, pains, and joys pass without a sound
I see the old man laughing at a bend in the road to Hebron
And with his gaze, everything that’s colorful changes tone

Children, films, sayings, books like a whirlwind
Spread him beyond the illusion of his personal being
But he hurts and shines unique, an individual, a wonder like no other
He’s got the courage to know he’s immortal

The flesh, the art burns, the afternoon falls
In the abyss of the corners
The breeze carries and brings the fleeting scent
Of the girls' sex