He would steal cheese
From the people of his village
He would do so to be punished
He would give good points
By offering images
He would do so to please himself
The one about whom we would say:
"He is less than a person."
Son of a gypsy or son of nothing
On the tape recorder
He waits for someone
The little idiot who would bring
All the flowers to the cemetery
Simply because he had said
That he had cousins
And 5 or 6 grandparents
Yes, I want to talk about
The one who laughed at love
While seeing married couples
Give candied to their children
He never really cares
But me, I know that he lies
He has tears in his eyes
In front of cathedrals.
He has a broken heart
When a child is sick.
And he turns a blind eye
To all of his memories
So he can make himself lie better
He's forgotten nothing
He will never forget
The fields of wheat and cornflowers
This boy who is full of stories
Would look at the ducks
Fly away at the end of the swamp
He never says anything
And when he clenches his fists
It's only to be less scared
It's how he would catch
a piece of happiness
He has tears in his eyes
In front of cathedrals.
He has a broken heart
When a child is sick.
And he turns a blind eye
To all of his memories
So he can make himself lie better
Listen to him sing
This village idiot
Listen to him tell you, "I love you."
Listen to him say that it took him 30 years
To be a child