Continente Perdido (terra de Montezuma)

(1976)

wattle and daub moon
Small kingdom, America
Son of many leagues
Bandit, Indian, America

You are a loose word
Or even another, America
A drumbeat of boys
Barefoot, America

They say that Montezuma
He was not a warrior nor was he capable
To defend the land
Gold, silver and more

Not even shut up
Of the white Muse of blue blood
By seas never given
To the sailors from here in the south

They Tell of the Sorcerer
King of the provinces, of Carnivals
Of the headless mule
In theatrical performances

They tell of the butterflies
Of the rainbow, of the storms
In this lost kingdom
Gone, too divided!

wattle and daub moon
Small kingdom, America
Son of many leagues
Bandit, Indian, America

You are a loose word
Or even another, America
A drumbeat of boys
Barefoot, America

They say that Montezuma
He was not a warrior nor was he capable
To defend the land
Gold, silver and more

Not even shut up
Of the white Muse of blue blood
By seas never given
To the sailors from here in the south

They Tell of the Sorcerer
King of the provinces, of Carnivals
Of the headless mule
In theatrical performances

They tell of the butterflies
Of the rainbow, of the storms
In this lost kingdom
Gone, too divided!
They Tell of the Sorcerer
King of the provinces, of Carnivals
Of the headless mule
In theatrical performances

They tell of the butterflies
Of the rainbow, of the storms
In this lost kingdom
Gone, too divided!