Casinha

Behind this hill there is a city
With white little houses, mansions, girls at the gates
Old men at the windows
And old Maria Fumaça
Rests in the square listening to the little band
Playing waltzes and songs in the hearts of young lovers

Behind this smoke there is a city
With children in the middle of the street
Playing with the moon
Telling secrets
And the old folks on the garden benches
Watch the end of another afternoon

Behind this hill there is a reality
White little houses tagged with graffiti, curses
Sins at the gates, failures at the windows
And old Maria Fumaça
Watches the disgrace in the middle of the square
And the little band provides a musical background to another funeral
Of those who got tired of living

Behind this smoke there is a reality
Police and thieves, locks on the gates, bars on the windows
And the drunken old folks on the garden benches
Witness their end

Behind this world there is a city
Jesus who built it when he ascended
On that cross and taught us the way
Love, oh love