FMI

Cachucho is not something that brings me to me
More novelty than lobster
Nose that recognizes the smell of money
Distinguishes well Mortimore from Meirim
Productivity, there it is, I mean
There is so much in this land that is still to be done
Go in there, analyze, and then
From my 'attache case' comes the solution!

IMF - There's no joke that the IMF doesn't make
IMF - The plastic bombastic for you
IMF - There's no force that twists the IMF

Discreet and orderly, but not weak for that
Here is the 'on the rocks' image of tobacco cancer
I put a tie in each jumpsuit
And put everyone in the same bag
Productivity, there it is, I mean
I'm not here to play, there's no time to lose
Stomping the foot in the house, duster in hand
It's just disinfecting in overproduction!

IMF - There's no trick that doesn't profit the IMF
IMF - The heroic paranoid hara-kiri
IMF - Panegyric, pro-lyric from here

Words, words, words and not only
Words for you and words for pity
Dealing with nothing that 'swings' the sun-and-dough
Then the servants wash the feet and dust the dust
Productivity, now even more
Little gray cells, always attentive
And you get hit in the face if you're not careful
In an immediate 3rd degree encounter!

IMF - There's no firewood that stops the IMF
IMF - There's no laziness that embarrasses the IMF
IMF

Entertain yourself son, entertain yourself, don't waste this daisy in vain, this daisy that loves you well, loves you badly, loves you, ovomalt'e-loves you, gigantic harvest, come, come, come, come coming, I saw myself in the kitchen, I saw myself in the bathroom, I saw myself in Politeama, I saw myself in Águia D'ouro, I saw myself everywhere, come son, come eat with your eyes, come eat with your hand, look at the pneumatic lovebirds that pride you on those posters, look at the Sound of Music of Indira Gandhi, look at Moshe Dayan who keeps an eye on you, respect is very beautiful and we are a respectful people, right son? We are a very beautiful respectful people, we go out on the street with a carnation in hand without realizing that we go out on the street with a carnation in hand at the right time, right son? Consolidate son, consolidate, get into Gabriela's mansion at the right time that the daisy will take care of you from the national health service. Consolidate son, consolidate, the job is very beautiful, your job is very beautiful, it's the most beautiful of all, like the star, isn't it son? The bastard star comes in through the back door, you have a hell of a time, you go to sleep entertained, right? Of course, gain strength, gain strength to consolidate, to see if we can in a great national effort stabilize this damn destabilization, right son? Of course! You're there looking at me, you see me spinning 33 times per minute, you paid your ticket, you paid your transaction tax and you're thinking to yourself: This guy is kidding me, who does he think he is? Right son? It's not true that you've been a hero since birth? It's not any totobola that puts you in the hat, my great rascal! My shitty Fernão Mendes Pinto, right son? Where is your Far East, son? Aniki Bébé, Aniki Bóbó, you are Sepulveda you are Adamastor, of course, you alone can fuck the United Nations with a rabbit passport, right son? They don't know, that's it, you know what it's like to enjoy life! Entertain yourself son, entertain yourself! Forget about politics, your policy is work, nice work, nice work, save yourself who can because life is short and the saints don't help those who are here filling tires with this shack talk and pop-xula rhythm, right son? 'A one, a two, a one two three'

IMF dida didadi dadi dadi da didi
IMF ...

'Come on you son of a bi'ch!' 'Come on baby' to see if you eat me! 'Come on' Luís Vaz, throw him with the decasyllables that they will see what it is to mess with a nation of poets! And bam, I'll stick Manuel Alegre in Mário Soares, bam, I'll stick Ary dos Santos in Álvaro de Cunhal, bam, I'll stick Natália Correia in Sá Carneiro, bam, I'll stick Zé Fanha in Acácio Barreiros, bam, I'll stick Pedro Homem de Melo in Parque Mayer and we all end up in a sardine feast to the Lusitanian integralism, stretching the arm, half Rolão Preto, half Steve McQueen, ok 'boss', all ok, we're in a cool one, a phenomenal trip, forbidden to go back, long live freedom, right son? Well, the irreversible, of course, the little irreversible, pluralism giving with a stick, nothing will be as before, now everyone gets annoyed in a different way, right son? Oh what the hell, let a line run at least, guys, it's like this, each one enjoying their own, it could be so cool, right? Concerns, political crises huh? The fault is the parties huh! This shit of the parties is what divides the guys huh, well huh, it's just talk huh, the guys just want to work huh! Jaime Neves is right huh! (Look, you dropped the car keys!) Well huh! (What's that black ear you have on the keychain?) Well, leave that, don't destabilize huh! Eh, please, another espresso and a custard tart. A damn huh, a real disaster on April 25th, this confusion huh, the guys were quiet, the espresso at 15 tostões, the soda at seven and crown... Ok, that shit of Pide huh, Tarrafal and the hell, but in the end who didn't collaborate, huh? How many snitches were there in this damn country, huh? Who didn't shut up, who risked skin and hair, just like that, what is called risking, huh? A handful of lyricists, huh, a handful of lyricists who all ended up fleeing abroad, huh, it's all the same herd! Oh Mr. Guard come here, ah, come see what this is, i, the noise that's going on here, i, the grandson hitting the grandmother, oh, he kicked her in the ass, right son? You keep talking, talking, that at least now you can talk, or can't you? Or have you already started your family-sized constitutional review, huh? Are you disillusioned with April's promises, huh? April's achievements! It was just talk from the moment they started taking them away and you stayed quiet, right son? And you did like the ostrich, you stuck your head in the sand, it's not my problem, it's not my problem, is it? And let the ones in front fuck off... And that's why your solution is not to see, not to hear, not to want to see, not to want to understand anything, you need peace of mind, you're not playing around here, right son? You need to be right, you need to blame someone and you blame the ones in front, the ones from April 25th, the ones from September 28th, the ones from March 11th, the ones from November 25th, the ones from... what day is today, huh?

IMF Dida didadi dadi dadi da didi
IMF

There's no Portuguese who doesn't feel guilty about something, right son? We all have sins on our record, that's what they taught you, isn't it true? This shit doesn't move because the guys, huh, the guys don't want this shit to move, I've said it. The fault is everyone's, no one's fault, isn't that true? This means, everyone is to blame in general and no one is to blame in particular! We are all very good at heart, right? We are all a nation of sinners and sellouts, right? We are all, either anti-communists or anti-fascists, these things don't even mean anything anymore, isms here, isms there, words are just soap bubbles, words words words and Zé is the one who gets screwed, here, the oil painter mussel, I don't care about this talk I'm going to the football, ready, long live Porto, long live Benfica, Lourosa, Lourosa, out with the referee, thief, let's all go to hell, the right had Tonico de Bastos to entertain himself, right son? Entertain yourself son, with your widows and orphans that your union delegate will take care of the health of the administrators, entertain yourself, that the labor minister takes care of the health of the union delegates, entertain yourself son, that the parliamentary opposition takes care of the health of the labor minister, entertain yourself, that Eanes takes care of the health of the parliamentary opposition, entertain yourself, that the IMF takes care of the health of Eanes, entertain yourself son and go to bed peacefully because there are thousands of smart guys thinking about everything at this very moment, while you fall asleep not thinking about anything, thousands and thousands of intelligent and powerful guys with computers, secret police networks, phones, assault cars, whole armies, university congresses, I don't know! You can rest assured that Teng Hsiao-Ping is taking care of you with Jimmy Carter, Brezhnev is taking care of you with John Paul II, everything is going well, let's see who will pocket the 25 tostões of wealth that you will produce tomorrow in your eight hours. Let's see who will be able to convince you that the blame is yours and yours alone if your salary loses value every day, or to convince you that the blame is only yours if your purchasing power is like the river of São Pedro de Moel that disappears in the sands on the beach, there 10 meters from the sea at high tide and never manages to flow so that it can be said: damn, the river finally flowed! They will convince you that the blame is yours and you without any guilt, you have to see, you have to see with that, isn't it son? The less you know where you stand the better for you Not enough for the steak? Better in the butcher shop than in the pharmacy; not enough for the pharmacy? Better in the pharmacy than in court; not enough for the court? Better the fine than death; not enough for the undertaker? Better for the grave than for I don't know who is coming, fucking future comers, huh? Always the damn future, and what am I doing here? Tell me, and me? José Mário Branco, 37 years old, what a damn, a guy full of good intentions, preaching to the fish, risking his skin, and then? It's just beating and living badly, right? The boy is rude, the boy is petit bourgeois, the boy belongs to a class without historical future... Am I stupid or what? I want to be happy damn it, I want to be happy now, fuck the future, fuck progress, better alone than in bad company, let them sell me newspapers and governments and strikes and unions and police and generals to the devil who fucks you all! Leave me alone damn it, leave me alone and quiet, don't fuck my ears anymore, there's no patience, there's no patience, leave me alone damn it, get out of here, leave me alone, just a minute, go sell newspapers and governments and strikes and unions and police and generals to the devil who fucks you all! Leave me alone, sons of bitches, leave me alone just for a little while, leave me alone just for good, take care of your life and I'll take care of mine, ready, that's enough, peace damn it, silence damn it, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, let me die in peace. I don't care about Artur Agostinho and Humberto Delgado, I don't care about Benfica and the bishop of Porto, I don't care about May 13th and October 5th and Melo Antunes and the Queen of England and Santiago Carrillo and Vera Lagoa, leave me alone damn it, leave me alone and quiet, don't fuck me anymore, the FMI, I don't care about the FMI, I don't care about the FMI, I don't care if the FMI fucks me, I'm going to vote for Pinheiro de Azevedo if I go back to the hospital, ready, fuck the FMI, the FMI is just an excuse of yours you bastards, the FMI doesn't exist, the FMI never landed at Portela anything, the FMI is a feint of yours to come here with that talk, get out, get out of here, it's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault, oh mother, oh mother, oh mother, oh mother, oh mother, oh mother, oh mother...

Mother, I want to be alone... Mother, I don't want to think anymore... Mother, I want to die mother. I want to unbirth, go away, without even having to go away. Mother, please, anything but the house instead of me, another damn that I'm not but this time that elapses between fleeing to find myself and finding myself fleeing, from what mother? Tell me, are these things to ask me? There can't be a reason for so much suffering. And if we invented the sea back, and if we invented leaving, to return. Leaving and there on that journey resurrect from death to the arrears that you gave me. Departure to win, departure to wake up, open your eyes, in a collective eagerness to fertilize everything, land, sea, mother... Remember how the sea taught us to dream high, remember note by note the song of the sirens, remember after goodbye, and the fragile and naive carnation of Rua do Arsenal, remember every tear, every hug, every death, every betrayal, leave here with all the past knowledge, leave, here, to stay...

Just as I saw one day, crying with joy, with premature and restless hope, the blue of the Lisnave workers parading, shouting hatred only at emptiness, army of love and helmets, just like in Praça de Londres the soldier spoke to them: Hello comrades, we are workers, they couldn't make us forget, here is my weapon to serve you. Just as behind the hills where the green is waiting, ancient rumors rise, the parties and the sweats, the drums of lava-colhos, just as I felt one day, crying with joy, with premature and restless hope, the inexorable beating of the producer hearts, the drums. Whose oak grove is it? It's ours! So I want to sing to you, ancient sea to which I return. In this dock is moored the dream boat in which I returned. In this dock I found the shore on the other side, Grândola Vila Morena. Tell me, was the crossing worth it? It was indeed.