Peperina

I want to tell you a good story
About a girl who lived the euphoria
Of being part of rock
Drinking peppermint tea

Typically small-town mind
She didn't have the guts for the office
Subterranean place of routine ideology
Romantic, she sang her brightest poems
Whispering in my manager's ear:
I love you, I hate you, give me more

Looking at the countryside, she forgot about men
Looking at the rich, she dressed as poor
To know what the neighbors gossiped about

In her mind, she carries a flag
She doesn't want to be like anyone else
She loves to show the straw in others' eyes
And in her story, she was Cinderella
Her prince was a hippie from the sixties
I love you, I hate you, give me more

She works at concerts
Lives writing postcards
Sleeps with the visitors
And plays with the locals
Her body carries the grease of the capitals
I love you, I hate you, give me more
I love you, I hate you, give me more
I love you, I hate you, give me more