>>In Loveland With You - Lyrics

Eu To Em Chamas

Eu tô em chamas
Ele não encara os fatos
E se atormenta como um diabo
Como um anjo sob o mesmo teto
Eu sei que o que é meu é seu
E o que é seu é o céu

Eu tô em chamas
Nesse balneário tolo
Ou será que eu tô gelando?
De novo?

Eu tô em chamas
Ele não encara os fatos
E se atormenta como um diabo
Como um anjo sob o mesmo teto
Eu sei que o que é meu é seu
E o que é seu é o céu
Um amor com sabor de pôr do sol

Eu tô em chamas
Nesse balneário tolo
Ou será que eu tô gelando?
De novo?

Call It

Well I don’t see the point of this glossy magazine
It has no soul
Call me a liar
Call me a white liar
But I prefer looking for good real sex around the town
And I don’t give a damn about how many people are in search of your expertise
In search of your good opinion

You tell them:
Third world is like painting
Just like paradise
You’ll make a movie (about those favelas)
You sell the view and yet you will be
You will be part of it all

Come for a dance tonight
That was just a big part of town
You’re young, rich and high
They’ll receive you well
It’s the word rappinhood
Call me a tropical
Call it music
Call it the next Taj Mahal

And you’re playing for the good and the great tonight
And I don’t care about your fame Mr Kane
You can throw dollars
You can bring your mirrors
And you may play with snakes tonight
Or you may be taken out of site
Just don’t think they can’t bite

And you sell your photographs
And you sell your expertise to this glossy magazine
They will put you over there
They will make you count
One two three four ten twenty pages of savage graces

But I don’t give a damn to your glossy pop
Call me a liar
Call me a white liar

Call it tropical
Call it punk
Call it the music from the good and the great
Call it Yang
Call it funk

O Bandido

1

Decretado hoje o Estado de Sítio no país
Um faroeste sobre o terceiro mundo
Da favela do Tatuapé pro mundo
O peixe morre pela boca, o peixe sempre morre pela boca
Cinco minutos de leite de coco… muito leite de coco
Não sou canhoto e não gosto da minha profissão
Eu, o bandido mascarado
Que não respeita a mulher nem a propriedade de ninguém
Meu fraco é mortadela

2

Ninguém sabe realmente a nacionalidade
E muito menos a identidade desse jovem criminoso
Subdesenvolvido? Brasileiro? Cubano? Mexicano? Favelado? Português?
Quem tiver de sapato não sobra
O motorista poderá sobreviver, mas caolho
A Amazônia também é Brasil
E o petróleo? é nosso!
O petróleo é nosso

3

Tentei me matar com tinta óleo mas nao deu pé
Agora vou ficar com a tua mulher
E nem um pio
Nem um pio
Sai de lá faz 15 anos
Da favela do Tatuapé pro mundo
Eu tinha que avacalhar
Um cara assim só podia avacalhar
Eles me chamam de pistoleiro mas eu não sou ladrão
Eu não sou ladrão

4

O terceiro mundo vai explodir e quem tiver de sapato não sobra
Minha mãe tentou me abortar pra eu não morrer de fome
É preciso pecar em dobro
E quem tiver de sapato não sobra
É que a Amazônia também é Brasil
Sozinho a gente não vale nada
Sozinho ninguém vale nada!

5

E essa é a verdadeira história de um homem que bebia uma
garrafa de whisky estrangeiro por dia.
Inventor do macete para ganhar no bicho
E inventor do método do violão mágico por correspondência
A Terceira Guerra já começou e ninguém tá dando bola
5 minutos de leite de coco… muito leite de coco
Quando a gente não pode fazer nada a gente avacalha
Um cara assim só podia avacalhar

6

Que miséria meu filho? Que miséria?
Um país sem miséria é um país sem folclore
E um país sem folclore é um país sem turistas
A união faz a força e você faz o que minha filha?
Curto circuito na favela do Tatuapé
O motorista poderá sobreviver, mas caolho
Agora vou ficar com a tua mulher e nem um pio
Nem um pio

7

É preciso pecar em dobro
É preciso pecar em dobro
O terceiro mundo vai explodir e quem tiver de sapato não sobra
Traz whisky pra todo mundo que o rei da boca paga
Viva a pobreza! Viva a pobreza!
Meu verdadeiro sonho era formar os Estados Unidos da América
Sozinho a gente não vale nada

8

O negócio é ser grosso
Taco fogo e me mando pra Acapulco, México
Vigia tem que morrer
Quem ganha 80 contos pra guardar 80 milhões tem que morrer
O terceiro mundo vai explodir
E quem tiver de sapato não sobra
Deus?
Deus não existe
É preciso pecar em dobro
É preciso pecar em dobro

9

É preciso pecar em dobro
Que miséria meu filho? Que miséria?
Curto circuito na favela do Tatuapé
Um país sem miséria é um país sem folclore
E um país sem folclore é um país sem turistas
A união faz a força
Traz whisky pra todo mundo
Sozinho a gente não vale nada
Sozinho ninguém vale nada

E dai?

Burning Land

Let’s return to the living
I saw them shaking hands
Its speaks genocide with the words of a quiet technician
The 4th world is now
What is your number?
They say everyone is equal. We are all one
But who put you in prison?
Cos I am dog, as keen as can be
Is there a room in your broom
For a dog like me?

And there’s a war
You just can’t remember
A war without end
A thousand evil wars
You just can’t remember

Burning land
Burning soul

Let’s return to the living
I saw them shaking hands
For 500 years burning our houses
Burying our dead
But who put you in prison?
Your mouth is dry
Your blood is pulsing
They procreate
They multiply
So hop hop hop
Burning land
Burning soul
Hop hop hop

 

Dream Like A Baby

Dream like a baby
You don’t seem to notice but
I’m right behind you
And I can hear your voice
This is a city of opportunities
By all means it’s an occasion
It calls for champagne

Out of this she had her last drink
We should preserve it for posterity
It’s a music piece now
So reverse
You’ve got 7 lives
You came for free trade
I’m for free love

Only you busy shopper
An animal with the demand to make choices
You’re here for commerce
The fourth world is now
The fourth world is here
So lets make the most of it
Did your dad never give you discipline?
Your car, your house, your job, your children, your life

Soon you’ll be killed by the guys in grey suits
They will shoot you down for this
And the shooter says:
It’s military, compulsory, disciplinary
And if you’re not here I’ll hunt you
And then I’ll shoot your son down like a duck

Dreaming like a baby we go
Dreaming of a thousand lovers
My hands are shaking
We are about to land
We are coming to a land near you
Haven’t I seen you before?
It’s hard to concentrate
So turn the lights out
Cos I have the tapes for your consideration
For your consideration

And once discipline begins to sink to the depths of the social
Then the social plague begins
I take my shoes off
Let irradiation takes over
The 4th world is left with whatever is left over
So what? who cares?
Your car, your boobs, your nose, your children
Everything is visible
Nothing is disguised
We’re about to land
Only 5 minutes and we’ll touch the ground
The fourth world is left with whatever is left over
The fourth world is now
An animal with the demand to make choices
Nothing is changed
You’re here for commerce
I’m here for free love
You followed me, now I’m following you
I’m right behind you
Your car, your house, your job, your children, your boobs, your life
You bought it
           
And the shooter says:
Those who are wearing shoes won’t remain
Take your clothes off
We are taking a boat to the end

 

Loveland

In loveland with you
Where tourists go looking for unseen spots
And we collapse in bed for 12 hours of dreaming

In loveland with you
Where there are no go zones
And I lost my memory
Looking for a self-storage place

In loveland with you
Where there is no free space in our homes
And time is only a 3rd dimensional construct
Organising realities
Making big plans
As we send out invites for the final strip

In loveland with you
Where we celebrate life in dark dungeons
With corporate city soldiers parading by

In loveland with you
Where I’m naked walking down these corridors
Listening to hard techno

In loveland with you
Where we play for the dead, the good and the great
Where we rented a two bedroom flat in a council state
And lived there for about 8 years

In deadland with you
Where we don’t recognise signposts
Where all I can see is the image of your ghost
Swimming in a local sports centre

In loveland with you
Where we are all strangers connected by what we reveal
And we share our beds but not our thoughts

In loveland
Where you’re not what you are
Where artist keep filling out forms and curators ripping off

In loveland with you
Our the bathroom ceiling is about to collapse
Where we search for gold
What comes next? Who comes next?
In loveland with you
Where we tried all those food recipes
And there was still room for our collection of magazines

In loveland with you
Where we celebrate
The death of the good and the great and the hard working
Where we do it like God intended us to

In loveland with you
Where we used the emergency button to stop the train

In loveland with you
Where we fucked without condoms to reach for transcendence
Where we ate sugar free cookies
Then watched a tv programme on the history of independence

In loveland with you
Where we say black immigrants do better than black natives
And the white bouncer throws us out of the party
Cos we’re not white enough
Cos we’re not white enough

In loveland with you
Where we bought new passports
Where we’re so happy we could die
Where we watched those children play in the afternoon

Where we heard that voice announcing:
DIVERSION / DISRUPTION

In loveland with you
Where we light up a cigarette
So that we could breath easily again
After our son knifed his girlfriend to death
And then killed himself

In loveland with you
Where I’m looking at the high ceiling
Where I think of how many bandits would fill up that space
With other talks and music
With other talks and music

In loveland with you
Where our the bathroom ceiling is about to collapse
Where we search for gold
What comes next? Who comes next?
And we talk proudly in broken English over Turkish tea
And we watch the English National Ballet rehearsing for free

In loveland with you
With pre-recorded music echoing around
And black balloons floating through the gallery

In loveland with you
In loveland with you

 

Quick Fix

I’m one of many who saw it coming
I’m not the only one lost in space and time
I’m just a vagabond looking at the towers
I was field-recording
And I was watching neighbors
Feeding pigeons through the windows
We must have a dance before the plague breaks out
Just for the thrill
I’m not playing my guitar for The Good and The Great
Oh no!

And I’m in bed with my baby
We got no money
Outside is sunny
Outside is funny
I was looking at the towers
Then I see you
You seem so happy you could die
You should have put your shit together
The white curator said: it matters
Calling out all living souls of the area
Look around

I’m in bed with my baby
We got no money
Outside is funny
We must have a dance
Before the plague breaks out
But all her beauty was killed by duty
AFINAL
And I waved goodbye to the princess
Passing by
I’m so happy I could die
We got a quick fix for the night
Quick fix for the nite

 

Mula

Minha senhora: os unicórnios
que caem com a raiz não voltam mais;
ainda que Van Goghs
até que engasgues,
sigo mula
a indiciar o caso excepcional do sem espécie,
self-archived mule,
exílio dos catálogos
a especificar o espaço
para a porcentagem da escolha do puro,
alheia que se agita
antes de abrir, dose cavalar
de juramento e egüidade.
Poupe-me, Popeye: longe de mim impor-me híbrida
à tua hípica -  brutalmente homogênea,
especialista em fronteiras,
eject de habitat,
eis-me, excelentíssimo,
a de cascos não-retornáveis,
tal qual high bred hybrid
relinchando o já morto:
muslos de mulícia,
esterilizável, aureolar,
multí-vaga
ambiqüestre
de mulas prontas,
perdoai vossa serva
preguiçodáctila aos berros
perturbando vosso áureo
piquenique do sublime,
illicit mule
espirrando em vosso épico.
Não há Blade Runner que resista
mesmo euzim fake mullah,
insciente dos teus métodos,
ó sussurrável, hoof muffler
da palha de meu estofo.
Prometo-me estóica e subcutânea,
bem fazes em esporear-me
o couro catecúmeno à chuva
do teu cuspe, inestimável
senhor de eco intumescido:
até que a mula
aqui fale
como manda
o figurino,
e encontre a exit
de quem às caras
me dera lamber o mundo
com a própria língua: mulo fundindo
com a função da forma
os extremos do exercício e
a fanfarra do sem categoria.

Epilogo

I’ve got these bills to pay tomorrow
I’ve got some money to cash
Just can’t decide if I were you I would spend and relax
I’m a boy who needs some privacy

I slept with her all night we had hot sex and never more
Next day went to Cash Converters
Took my stereo for
Poor little thing you need some reverie
Your life is shit
You need in misery

Making some cash (2x)
I’ve got to make some cash

Made a few pounds and off I went to spend in Shoreditch
Drinking some bad house wine with strangers
Cos I’m there to fit
Poor little thing you need to exist
Your life is tough
You live in misery

I’ve got these bills to pay tomorrow
I’ve got some money to cash
Just can’t decide if I were you I would spend and relax
I’m a boy who needs some privacy
And life is tough
Give me dignity

Making some cash (2x)
I’ve got to make some cash