Pintura Sem Arte

Painting Without Art

I feel like a fallen leaf
I am the goodbye of those who leave
For whom life is painting without art
The flower of hope has ended
Love the wind carried away
Another flower was born

It's the longing that invades me taking away my freedom
My chest burns like summer
But if it's to cry, I cry singing
So no one sees me suffering
And say that I'm paying

But if it's to cry, I cry singing
So no one sees me suffering
And say that I'm paying

No, it's not enough to have inspiration
It's not enough to make a beautiful song
To sing samba, you need much more
Samba is lament, is suffering
It's the escape from my woes

That's why I thank the longing in my chest
That has been comforting my shattered dream
Garden of the past
Dead flowers on the ground
Petals, seeds of passion

Garden of the past
Dead flowers on the ground
Petals, seeds of passion

No, it's not enough to have inspiration
It's not enough to make a beautiful song
To sing samba, you need much more
Samba is lament, is suffering
It's the escape from my woes

That's why I thank the longing in my chest
That has been comforting my shattered dream
Garden of the past
Dead flowers on the ground
Petals, seeds of passion

Garden of the past
Dead flowers on the ground
Petals, seeds of passion

(In the ballroom, people!)
(Old-fashioned dance was like this!)
(Give it a little pout!)

(Look at the cross, look at the cross!)
(It has swing, it has swing)

(Aiá, little pout)