Beemedobleve

They have closed the gates of heaven
And those things cannot be hidden

A flood sweeps the riverbank
The mud becomes cruel, coming to bury us

And around here the Lord didn't make a turn
With fertile beds, the flood goes away

How wide it is, oh, the sky of turnips
To the neighborhood of the lying down I go

Why are you laughing, I tell you, idiot
Pepa shouts at the dealer
With an immoral gesture

My dogs are going to have you for a snack
Beemedobleve with pastafrola and more!

If the best of the best of love
God always kept it for himself
A bitter bite he left us
In an apple orchard

Very rarely do those rites work
While I see my death pass by
On a barge

I'm sorry to go, but I'm happy
I'm sure I'll miss the whole medicine cabinet

If the best of the best of love
God always kept it for himself
A bitter bite he left us
In an apple orchard