Por Que Será
Vinicius de Moraes
Why is it
Why is it
That I walk sad for adoring you?
Why is it
That life insists on showing itself
More distracted inside a bar
Why is it?
Why is it
That our subject has already ended?
Why is it
That what was together has separated
And what was much has withered
Why is it?
I, how many times
I sit at the table of some place
Saying things just to say
Postponing the moment to meet you
It's very sad
When you feel everything dying
And love still exists
That lies to hide
That the present love
Has nothing else to say
