A Revolta Dos Dândis Part I

Between a face and a portrait, the real and the abstract
Between madness and lucidity
Between the uniform and nudity
Between the end of the world and the end of the month
Between the truth and English rock
Between the others and you

I feel like a stranger
Passenger of some train
That doesn't pass through here
That is nothing but an illusion

Between the dead and wounded, between screams and moans
(The lie and the truth, loneliness and the city)
Between one glass and another of the same drink
Among so many bodies with the same wound

I feel like a stranger
Passenger of some train
That doesn't pass through here
That is nothing but an illusion

Between Americans and Soviets, Greeks and Trojans
Between one year and another, always the same plans
Between my mouth and yours, for so long, with so many plans
But I never know where we're going

I feel like a stranger
Passenger of some train
That doesn't pass through here
That is nothing but an illusion