Ruas Vazias

Shawlin:
When the daylight goes, the light of the lamppost guides
I was so surrounded by buildings, brother, not even the moon could be seen
Not a single street was visible, but that's already usual
Because another group of humans invades like a school of fish
Hot nights, there's always people who go into crisis
Under the star-filled sky, walking through empty streets
There alone, I felt like the whole place was saying
Everything should be there, only that graffiti artist on the corner
That group of street sweepers and a security guard sleeping
It's the likely fate of the hesitant to disappear
Several underage kids completely at ease
From minority at night, they own the city
My other habitat with no one to talk to
Just a somewhat cold coffee so the body doesn't protest
Keep your eyes wide open so no one else comes to challenge
Many want to test, but I swear, they'll hate it

I don't need to say anything that the night shift speaks
Only the born scoundrels with the spray can in the early morning
Stay off the sidewalk, danger on any sidewalk
Only the born scoundrels, armed robbery, man!
No dog guarantees itself or then scrams
Because if every cat is gray, it's ready, make the move
Only buses and taxi drivers, swindlers and gas station attendants
Are few in sight and so our list goes on

Zé Bolin:
Everything's ready for work, I've set up my stand
Focused on business without giving much importance
Because at a point you rest, people lose their innocence
The malice transmitted in the look of a child
It's here that transits between rat, cockroach, whore, beggar
Crazies everywhere you go
Pushing my cart dragging the cooler
Under the moonlight, based on faith and sweat
I'm at my spot, I'm the owner of this corner
Selling Guaravita, beer, coke, weed, and that girl
Profitable, lunatic, and harmful dawn
For those who make use of it, for those who are made by it
Even being from above, it's a suspicious element
More normal situation around the fifteen
Urban climbers wandering around the marquees
Among so many insane people, it's just the entrance of the fifteen

I don't need to say anything that the night shift speaks
Only the born scoundrels with the spray can in the early morning
Stay off the sidewalk, danger on any sidewalk
Only the born scoundrels, armed robbery, man!
No dog guarantees itself or then scrams
Because if every cat is gray, it's ready, make the move
Only buses and taxi drivers, swindlers and gas station attendants
Are few in sight and so our list goes on

funkeiro:
Empty morning streets, jungle remains dormant
It's fucking cold, but the asphalt is hot
Shadows with harmful faces numb the senses
Since I was little, I thought buildings seem alive
The city is a human body, the streets are arteries
Intense feelings take ethereal forms
Stars shine crying
And the Colombian daily silence is like Gregorian chant
Activity on the rooftop, from 1 2
Firing shots in the air in honor of those who passed away
Bribe the patrol car, the empty street saw
Black and white portrait of our civil war
Rain in the early morning washes the soul of the streets
Those who are outlaws throw their lives on the streets
The world's loneliness is reflected in the streets
Even though they're empty, life still flows in the streets