Pra Ser Minha Musa

She brings me coffee in bed
Loves me like no one else
Calls me my black, my dude, my darling
My love
She praises, recites, complains
Always living to whine
Accuses me of ingratitude
Does everything right but can't quite get it
To be my muse

Prepares the stew at lunchtime
Acts all sweet even when she talks
Always checks in if I'm feeling down
Always lets out a sigh when I walk by
She says she's part of my show now
And keeps singing Cazuza's song
Does everything right but can't quite get it
To be my muse

She strokes me smiling like the Mona Lisa
In bed, she weaves me like Rapunzel
So much like Juliet, she can't see the tricks
Doesn't see my flaws and puts me on a pedestal
What a beautiful thing, so full of grace
It's her who irons my pants and shirt
Does everything right but can't quite get it
To be my muse