Quero Ele

I want him, but I want a lot
I hear whispers of him on my tape recorder
I look for him in the sea, all over the ship
I want him, sad boy
I want him behind him
On top of the table
I want Querelle, I want to desire them
I want to have them, their balls, their ears
I want him limp, I want him hard
I want him with his pubic hair
And his sweet smile on his eyebrows
The sword breeze
I want to pack his suitcase
And take care of him when he's sick
We feel strange things
Pains, horrors in the guts
Mother, father, where am I slowly tonight
Not Querelle, Querelle runs
Querelle can and should lie
I want Querelle and his brother
(I want Rogéria and her big one)
I want in Brest, all the saints
I want the fairies and the giants

I want to brush his teeth, put on cologne
Tell stories to his insomnia
I want to cure his sex malady
I want senseless, without a condom
I want, yes, I want affection
I want the light of the obscure
I want to desire, I want to suck, I want laziness
Rio, Angra, Paranaguá
I want you, my companions
My sailors, my deadbeats
I want you, I want to cut the pain with a knife
And be a woman (Rogéria woman, Astolfo male)