I live alone with my mum
in a old house, Evergreen terrace
with a cat free in the house
The tortoise with no age and the canaries.
Because mum could rest a little
it's me seen that I can, to cook,
Put in order, and to tidy,
Go to the mall and, why not,
sewing too.
No fear to work
I'm a little bit decorator
And a little stylist
But in the night I know
I'm giving all I have
I am an artist.
I do a special act
That ends with me bare naked
That is for me
And in the hall I see that
The males say about me
"Is he a man or what they say?"
At dinner, about at three
I have many friends around me,
of all sexes
There's an air of cordiality
An absolute liberty without any complexion
Discovering truth
About who we don't like, we stone him
Always with humour
But with fine
we destroy him.
There's some retarded that
believes to mock at me
by wiggling his hips.
Poor people, they don't know
they're ridiculous, to pity.
They laugh the more they can,
they talk by gestures of a tenor
or a great actress.
I let the jokes
pass high over me,
a man or what they say.
I come home at dawn and I already know
that in my house I'll find again my sadness.
I'll take off my wig and lashes
But I won't remove the signs of my tiredness
I lie down but I can't sleep.
I think 'bout my love with no joy and derisory.
To him that only I know, he enflames beatiful like a God,
My thinkings
I won't dare to talk to him
I know I won't reveal him
My condemnation
If the best of his youth
In anonymous beds he gives to a woman
But don't look at me withe severe look, judging.
What's my fault if mother nature makes of me a man or what they say?