Mano Chão

No matter how much I bongo
I get more songomongo
Head heavy long way
Far I rise and stretch
Monk from Tibet
Passage through Congo
Rat lizard mouse
Improvise live saved by Congo
Praying mantis carcass
And the little mosquito arms
Everything is beautiful and perfect
For now it's the king of bong
I don't disappoint
Mescaline microdot
I'm ready for the confrontation
With myself at the point
Between me and the other fool
That's chronic and tale
1.50 without discount
Salty cheese with chicken
Doesn't satisfy my stomach
I have a wormhole
Like a Sumerian
So my man I'm insane
Thin like bone and cloth
I don't even talk about anyone
I don't know the so-called someone
Each in their own square
Not even crossing the ocean
I carry a piano by rowing
I've never been a puritan
When I grow a big mustache
I look like a Chicano
I like protein
I'm not satisfied with a vegetarian lunch
I move all the time
Living like a gypsy
I don't care about technology
iPod iPad iTouch nano
My problems are solved
According to everyday life
From the waist up
Korean revolution
From the waist down
I have African blood
I would be burned like
If I were born in the Vatican
I'm crazy with madness
In life I'm a veteran
I don't even know what cultural heritage
I'm leaving behind
Tobacco with light green
Now the mix is ready
Bongo circle only those who bong
Know what I'm talking about
For those who don't bong don't know what
Mano Chao is going to come in singing

Banging on my bongo
All that swing belongs to me
I'm so happy there's nobody
In my place instead of me

I'm a king without a crown
Hanging loose in a big town
But I'm the king of Bongo
Baby I'm the king of Bongo Bong

Meditate, rise
Relax, forgive
Life delivers
And takes back
On the return from the jungle
The saint is safe
In the internal tear
The smile is a cry
The forehead relaxes
The neck loosens
Straight spine
Poet in escort
On the undecided, undefined route
Abstract, portrays the games of life
Wound, open, then heals
Subtle moment that sensitizes you
We don't always make available
Time and attention as we intend
My rhyme, my fate
My love, my mass
Night out, morning
Orange afternoon
My brothers, my ganja
Angels in panties
In the abundance line
Here we don't waste