2018.08.22.
The Indians of the Meia-Praia
Meia-Praia VillageRight next to Lagos
I’m gonna write you a song
As best as i can
From Monte-Gordo they came
Some of them walking on foot
One arrived by bike
Another went astern
When your eyes stumble
On a seagull flight
Instead of fish they see pieces
Of gold falling in the fish market
Whoever comes to live here
Don’t bring tables nor beds
With six feet of land
You can build a hut
You work all year round
At the fish market they leave you mute
They rob you up to the bones
They take away your scalp
I wish we had
The bravery of Agostinho*
To feed the rage
Of strangulating the bourgeoisie
I said goodbye to Monte-Gordo
(Nothing holds him to bad memories)
But nothing holds him to the present
If only he is fooled
Eight thousand counted hours
Were rigorously laboured
Until it came the first
Certified Document
They were women and children
Each one carrying it’s brick
'This was an orchestra '
Who says otherwise is a fool
And if the spiteful tongues don’t cease
I won’t leave here alive
For nothing erases the nobleness
Of the indians of the Meia-Praia
It has always been your trademark
A shark with a thousand scraps
Leaving everything suspended
When you’re glancing the pray
From the finished elections
From the expected result
Came out what you have seen
Lots of withholding works
But not by one’s will
Because the fight will carry on
Since this is his story
And the people took the streets
High finance leaders
Make everything go backwards
They say the world only moves on
Having a foreman in charge
They were women and children
Each one carrying it’s brick
'This was an orchestra'
Who says otherwise is a fool
And let’s get on with the paperwork
In the toing and froing of the ministries
But they will run away from screams
And band is still in the streets