Eu Sou Neguinha?
Eu tava encostado ali minha guitarra
Num quadrado branco, vídeo papelão
Eu era um enigma, uma interrogação
Olha que coisa
Mas que coisa à toa, boa, boa, boa, boa, boa
Eu tava com graça
Tava por acaso ali, não era nada
Bunda de mulata, muque de peão
Tava em Madureira, tava na Bahia
No Beaubourg, no Bronx, no Brás
E eu, e eu, e eu, e eu
A me perguntar
Eu sou neguinha?
Era uma mensagem
Lia uma mensagem
Parece bobagem mas não era não
Eu não decifrava, eu não conseguia
Mas aquilo ia, e eu ia, e eu ia, e eu ia, e eu ia
Eu me perguntava
Era um gesto hippie, um desenho estranho
Homens trabalhando, para e contramão
E era uma alegria, era uma esperança
Era dança e dança ou não, ou não, ou não, ou não, ou não
Tava perguntado:
Eu sou neguinha?
Eu sou neguinha?
Sou neguinha
Eu sou neguinha?
Sou neguinha
Eu tava rezando ali completamente
Um crente, uma lente, era uma visão
Totalmente terceiro sexo
Totalmente terceiro mundo terceiro milênio
Carne nua, nua, nua, nua, nua, nua
Era tão gozado
Era um trio elétrico, era fantasia
Escola de samba na televisão
Cruz no fim do túnel, beco sem saída
E eu era a saída, melodia, meio-dia, dia, dia, dia
Era o que eu dizia:
Eu sou neguinha?
Mas via outras coisas: via o moço forte
Ea mulher macia den'da escuridão
Via o que é visível, via o que não via
E o que poesia e a profecia não vêem
Mas vêem, vêem, vêem, vêem, vêem
É o que parecia
Que as coisas conversam coisas surpreendentes
Fatalmente erram, acham solução
E que o mesmo signo que eu tento ler e ser
É apenas um possível e o impossível
Em mim, em mil, em mil, em mil, em mil
E a pergunta vinha:
Eu sou neguinha?
Am I a Little Black Girl?
I was leaning there with my guitar
In a white square, video cardboard
I was an enigma, a question mark
Look at that
But what a silly thing, good, good, good, good, good
I was with grace
I was there by chance, it was nothing
Mulatto butt, cowboy muscle
I was in Madureira, I was in Bahia
In Beaubourg, in the Bronx, in Brás
And I, and I, and I, and I
Asking myself
Am I a little black girl?
It was a message
I read a message
It seems silly but it wasn't
I couldn't decipher it, I couldn't
But it was going, and I was going, and I was going, and I was going, and I was going
I asked myself
It was a hippie gesture, a strange drawing
Men working, back and forth
And it was a joy, it was a hope
It was dance and dance or not, or not, or not, or not, or not
I was asking:
Am I a little black girl?
Am I a little black girl?
I'm a little black girl
Am I a little black girl?
I'm a little black girl
I was praying there completely
A believer, a lens, it was a vision
Totally third sex
Totally third world third millennium
Naked flesh, naked, naked, naked, naked, naked
It was so funny
It was an electric trio, it was fantasy
Samba school on television
Cross at the end of the tunnel, dead-end alley
And I was the way out, melody, noon, day, day, day
It was what I said:
Am I a little black girl?
But I saw other things: I saw the strong man
And the soft woman from the darkness
I saw what is visible, I saw what I didn't see
And what poetry and prophecy don't see
But they see, they see, they see, they see, they see
It seemed
That things talk about surprising things
They inevitably make mistakes, find solutions
And that the same sign that I try to read and be
Is just a possibility and the impossible
In me, in a thousand, in a thousand, in a thousand, in a thousand
And the question came:
Am I a little black girl?