of this sonic locomotion called Brazilian music
Nothing moves quite like it - because IT doesn't actually move
IT moves everyone around it - not always into dance - sometimes it moves inside
Only brandon would understand
this carolina shaped guitar - electric underwater bubble strings
Tunning into the abyss of bliss - riding the pandero hoping stylishly
turn me into a berimbau Oh Lord and my life would be complete
Abandon me in bahia with a pair of maracas - and a flute
ill emerge the victor of the octagon - in which music bounces in and out
Claim the booty of this sounds deep into your heart
there is no other container for them - all else would brake with awesomeness
Sharp little wings turning left and right
emerge from Seu Jorge's fingers when he plays
Honey fairies flutter out of his lips - nest in his throat
copulate in his heart - in the stage and when he sleeps
Papa bear was re-incarnated into Mestre Acordeon - he wanted to be a brilliant philanthropist
so he learned capoeira and sang his life alive
well meninas e meninos
let turn into os mutantes - get drunk on Coehlo, sip guaranas, and jump into 2014
Brazil is the world on a small scale
and how interesting i should write this on the day my country celebrates 200 years of independence.
Salud!
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