Esmola

Hey!
An alms for the love of God
An alms
Man! Out of charity
An alms
For the blind, for the child
On every corner
There are people just begging...

An alms for the unemployed
A little alms
For the poor sick black man
An alms
For what remains of Brazil
For the beggar, for the destitute...

He who asks, I who give
He only asks, the year is a thousand
Nineteen ninety-something
I'm tired of giving alms
Everywhere I go
It's like this now...

An alms for the love of God
An alms
Man! Out of charity
An alms
For the blind, for the child
On every corner
There are people just begging...

An alms for the unemployed
A little alms
For the poor sick black man
An alms
For what remains of Brazil
For the beggar, for the destitute...

I'm tired, my good man
Of giving alms
This miserable share of greed
If the country is not for everyone
You can be sure
It won't be for anyone...

It won't, it won't
It won't, it won't
It won't, it won't
It won't!
In the hospital, in the restaurant
At the traffic light, in Morumbi
In Maracanã, in Mineirão...

A child sees me
And immediately starts asking
Give me, give me
Give me some money
But the child sees me
And immediately starts asking
Give me, give me
Give me some money...

An alms for the love of God
An alms, man, out of charity
An alms
For the blind, for the child
On every corner
There are people just begging...