O Necrotério Dos Vivos

Morgue of the living, of the living
Morgue of the living here lies, here lies
Morgue of the living you lie here, here lies

There was no candle in the candlestick and crucifix
But since the maternal womb they've been watching you alive
When you have to kidnap the manager's children
You exist biologically, but not socially
You're nothing but a bought slave
With rights stolen by the Ministry of Labor
Another deceased who breathes and only smiles
If the judge converts the sentence to probation
Fuck your declaration of being born alive
They assassinated control of your destiny
If the GARRA wants, they invent a faction meeting
And spread your family's flesh for a block
They want you to only feel the heartbeat
Ripping off Brinks and enjoying at a farm
While they criminalize social movements
They shoot the police abuse whistleblower
Proof of the death of our critical sense
Is the rally that doesn't have an explosive drone
Real Walking Dead, oppressor's version
Where life begins in the robbery at the pawnshop
Coming soon, another live broadcast
Of another gang invading towards the grave
The guys will have G3, celebrating with shots
Expanding the 'us that is' in the Morgue of the Living

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living

Want a tip for citizenship revival?
Read the Constitution 5 minutes a day
Forget if the guy sings rap for fun
No crisis, no trouble, why bite?
Fighting for survival doesn't accept childishness
Division among us based on musicality
Living is having the option of not being tortured
By the delegate to take on the neighborhood's homicides
It's being able to create a society where our ears
Don't hear a Rota commander raping Article 5
All equal before the law my ass!
There's one approach for the favela and another for the upscale neighborhood
The day I side with the oppressor, I had brain death
I hate the big house, I was born in the slave quarters
For me, I'd tattoo on the forehead of the high-class:
Thief asshole, killer of children
Who after shooting at the school uniform
Still makes defamatory posts
I think, therefore I exist, I'd only enjoy the video
Of the politician digging his own grave to be buried alive
He makes us vegetate without the 3 thousand monthly
That guarantees higher educational level
He makes us vegetate in the Morgue of the Living
Shooting the armored mosquito that decimates the excluded

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living

The worst is knowing that the child on the school floor
Will soon be leading conflicts outside
Will be a victim of the police and the blogger
Who asks for gun treatment for the Brazilian people
The environment doesn't influence your ass!
It's an indigent month to want a package from Itaú
What matters is having vital signs?
When the terroristic platoons are not stopped
When it's not seen that hatred is legitimate defense
So the baby doesn't serve time with the imprisoned mother
While we are politically buried
800 thousand dream of a good lawyer
The one not contemplated by BNDES
Develops by knocking down those who messed up on the GPS
Get rich, or die trying
But honor the living death of your parents by humiliating yourself in jobs
To save yourself from the buddy recording your action in the car
Shouting 'shoot at so-and-so!' And you firing
I broke the rule, I'm not in a robbery-homicide
Waiting for parole after serving 2/5
I'm turning blood and circus into life and book
Even if a court condemns my activism
I'll put poisoned water in the rich guy's beer
Resurrecting Lazaruses in the Morgue of the Living

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living

Even far from the body bags
Even without a heart riddled with bullets
Even without a tomb with your photo
You lie here in the Morgue of the Living