Sou Eu Que Vou Trabalhar
Trago
It's Me Who Will Work
At the stop I only see those who work
There's not a relaxed person
Squeezed, swaying on the avenue
Swinging is also transportation
On the scale, you weigh and it's not worth it
There's not a stockpiled mixture
And the foods are no longer foods
Only those who are better off eat
Service, job, occupation
Workday, exercise
Production, toil, struggle
Function, task, toil
Because an empty bag doesn't stand
Slowly the hen fills its crop
This dog, who barks, also bites
Today the prey ate the hunter
And the money disappeared in the storm
From these interests added to the taxes
Hard times, defaults, trifles
And the kids working as adults
And the landscape passing by the window
And the window acts as a screen
While revealing the viaducts
Service, job, occupation
Workday, exercise
Production, toil, struggle
Function, task, toil
These people squeezed at the turnstile
So many stories need to be told
How much time seemed lost to you
How many hours spent on the subway
And the route could well vary
Circulate in a different context
Several breaks when reaching the stop
And people becoming happier
And the beautiful future ahead
It's a future that is coherent
Make way for the worker
