Saudade Butequeira

Promise is debt and yours is high
Your morals are low
Of the times you said you would forget me
You forgot nothing, nothing, nothing

It's that your history doesn't favor you
Those who buy you are those who don't know you
The drink goes down, you show up

Your longing is bar-like, cheap, junk
You only love me with the smell and taste of beer
You are the biggest cliché the world has ever seen
Drank, remembered, called, loved me
Healed, disappeared