on Foot | Q.Portet [Stolen Songs]

I don't know what you expect from me,
not puch I have to tell you
and maybe you don't want to hear it.
Paradise from the Arabs,
food from the catholics,
everithing can be taken advantage of.

The morning is wrecked, consider me yours,
there's no hurry, we'll go on foot.

You can't get water from a stone,
nor poems written by soldiers,
nor abortions in the bishorphic.
Come and see me and we'll laugh,
there'll be plenty of time to cry,
the knife between the teeth.

You say that I have to be astute
like the singer
of the Tururut erchestra.
The morning is wrecked,
life is like that;
music cushions everything.

If you come with me I'll take youe;
to a magnificent paradise
that they've built on the third floor.
There's no hurry, we'll go on foot,
last night we didn't sleep;
it's no big thing but I'm yours.