A Rita
Chico Buarque
To Rita
Rita took my smile
In her smile
My subject
Took it with her
What is rightfully mine
And tore it from my chest
And there's more
Took your picture, your rag, your plate
What a mess!
An image of Saint Francis
And a good Noel record
Rita killed our love out of revenge
Left no inheritance
Didn't take a penny
Because she didn't have any
But caused losses and damages
Took my plans
My poor mistakes
My twenty years
My heart
And on top of everything
Left me speechless
A guitar
