Black people have swings, white people have freckles
Nuns have desire, children have dreams
The dead are thirsty, the living are guilty
The rich have diets, the hungry poor
And in the end, shit smells the same, whether it's a prince or a maid
Bribe has clients, flowers have smells
The good have peace, the bad have parties
Mondays have Tuesdays, Fridays have laughter
Evil has a doctor, time, time
Thank goodness the check was enough to disguise the debts
Cheese, things, houses
But , you stop, because
Cheeses to be alive, things to decorate
The house that you think is yours, as long as you can breathe
But it's to complicate things for you
You stop to explain
Because it is that we are screwed
If there is air to breathe
Because if we are still alive
The desire to hump
The weak has tricks, the strong has excuses
God has his fans, the sea mysteries
Pain gives flavor to the gathering
Love gives wings to even a pig
And in the end, some dream of dreaming
And others don't dream so much
Cheese, things, houses
But, stop, because
Cheese to be alive, things to decorate
The house What do you think is yours, as long as you can breathe
The one who invented private property
He was nothing more than a salesman
And the monkey who dreamed
He turned him into a consumer
Of cheeses, things, houses
Of ifs, buts, becauses
Of gold and jewelry
Of clothes and laundry
Of shit and peptobismol

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