On Monday I plant the sugarcane
On Tuesday the dawn breaks
On Wednesday I harvest the sugarcane
On Thursday I do the sugarcane
On Friday I do the dripping
On Saturday I wake up drinking
On Sunday my mother told my son to stop drinking
This fate I will fulfill until I die
From the bottle I make the candle
From the shelf I make the coffin
I want them to bury me with a glass of pinga in my hand
I want them to bury me with a glass of drips on hand

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