Tal vez Cheché

Up in the sky, they're calling you
And maybe you'll hear it soon.
Down on the ground, they're searching for you
And maybe you'll meet your doom.

Maybe Cheché.
I’m telling you, man.

Out in the wind, you're looking for yourself
And maybe they'll announce
That the player will stay on the field
Even if his wings don’t want to bounce.

Maybe Cheché.
I’m telling you, man.

And when no one remembers your soul,
When a cathedral catches fire,
Hands of flame will spread your wings
And your croak will rise up higher.

Maybe Cheché.
I’m telling you, man.

Phoenix. Phoenix. Phoenix.
Doesn’t come down.