It's 7 o'clock in the morning
I see Christ from the window
The sun has already turned off its light
And the people down there wait
In the queues at the bus stops
Looking for where to go
They are all your cicerones
They run so as not to give up
Of their starvation wages
it is the hope that they There are
In this film as extras
Everyone wants to get along
On a train to the stars
After the slave ships
Other currents
Your Christ is strange, Rio
That looks so far, beyond
With arms always open
But without protecting anyone
I will cover the walls
Of my misery room
With newspaper headlines
To see that it is nothing serious
I will give my contempt
To you who taught me
That sadness is a way
For us to save ourselves later
On a train to the stars
After the slave ships
Other currents