Dois Barcos
Los Hermanos
Two Boats
Whoever hits the fold of the sea first
Gives, from there, any flag
Points to faith and rows
Yeah, it might be that the tide doesn't turn
It might be the wind coming against the dock
And if I no longer feel your signs
It might be life getting used to
Will it be, brunette?
About being alone, I know
In the seas where I've been
Slowly, it dedicated itself more
Chance hiding
And now, tomorrow, where is it?
Sweet the sea, lost in my singing
Sweet the sea, lost in my singing
Only I know
In the seas where I've been
Slowly, it dedicated itself more
Chance hiding
And now, tomorrow, where is it?
