Well, who can not know
What it is to feel alone
Loner than an empty elevator
Thinking life is so boring
Thinking life is more boring
Than a blues singer
It's me who reminds you
When you forget to water the plants
And to hang the white clothes on the line1
Only those who believe they make miracles do make miracles
Like transforming a teardrop into a song
I see the pigeons on the asphalt
They know how to fly high
But they insist on picking the crumbs on the floor
I know how to laugh showing my teeth
And my sharp tongue
Cuts more than an old blues song
But today I only want to shock
Like an old-time poet
And smoke my cigarette
In the absence of absinthe
I feel so much, I feel too much, I don't feel anything
As Magdalene said
Replying to the Pharisees
Whoever is kind to the poor lends
Whoever is kind to the poor lends
To the Lord
Whoever is kind to the poor lends
Whoever is kind to the poor lends
To the Lord
To the Lord
1. Clothesline