The City of Artists
In the city
Being an artist
Is posing with a smile
Is hoping that suddenly
You appear in a magazine
Is waiting for the payphone
To complete the call
Confirming the tour
That takes you to Japan
With your pianist
And before
The sun rises
Contemplating
The horizon
Granting interviews
To other artists
Under the bridge
In the city
Being an artist
Is standing on a chair
Swallowing the dagger
Is exciting the tourist
Is drinking ant poison
Is spitting fire
Is watching the square fill up
And the hat bulging
With so many coins
Is falling to your knees
Is giving thanks to the sky
There goes the tourist
The money, the dagger
The chair and the hat
Being an artist
In the city
Is eating a scrap
Is wearing a rag
Is feeling at ease
Is wandering through the night
Is being a firefly
Is picking up a cigarette butt
Is having a shot of cachaça
Is painting a fence
Is being almost nothing
Is not having documents
Until the cops catch you
Fold you, crush you
And throw you inside