Penalty that the singer of the program in question makes a ritmado refro, that more leagues to the exibicionista movement of its ndegas (in the expression ' ' bundalel' ') of what the intention to follow the melody and the melody, in this in case that, still it is, to the times, spoken Where it is the harmony, therefore! Conclusion: this is clearly a music? Good, the media made with that this possible music and this singer blew up the success stops, more for the flavor of the rhythm of what simply for something idealized; that is, more for the intention of market of what really for what he is constructive, to create an ideal or a sensation, that is, more realistic our return. That homesicknesses of the great singers who still thought about passing ideas, to change a moment, an attitude and to divide themselves enter the passion and the love for what they made of form that had still clear (e, today, rare) intentions of inconformismo and even though to give value what we called and learns to understand on the man. Singers these whose melodies if had become classic and for which I can take off the hat. But every year singing phenomena appear and plasticized. Let us remember musics now you recycle passing, specifically in some letters that already had been plays in the garbage, but that it left, in a personal and observed comment, many girls until pregnant; factor initiated probably for the practical motivation the impulsive one to the sex. The letters that they had marked time in this low sentimental level they had been: ' ' Insurance tchan, mooring cable tchan, insurance tch, tch, tch, tch, tch' ' ; ' ' I go to pass cerol in the hand, go yes, I go sim' ' ; ' ' Mine, your hair is of the hour, your corpo violo' ' now ' ' Today it is party back in mine ap (…) Teso, Seduction, libido in air; in my room it has people until making orgia.
In the day where I will be myself, or better, to die, I want very I cry, however few candles, a star already has proper light (it is my ego). I want that the current mayor smiles and until gargalhe on ' ' I defunto' ' , therefore it would not support demagogy, but I want mine three days of I fight, with right the flag the half mast. I will not need carpideiras, therefore the widowers will be as much who the tears will make to overflow the river San Francisco (ta pretension). In the day where I to die, want that they silence the horns and they sing for the streets my songs, declaim my verses and they spill a thousand compliments on my corpse (Fool illusion). I want that my enemies hold the handle of my coffin and play sand shovels on my hollow, therefore I want they curse that me until the last moment.
My friends will even though go for the way counting my causos, floreando my life, placing color where at moments I was black sheep (until friends they tire). In the day where I to die, want that cachaa either distributed of favour, after all, who it lived tipsy of verses has that at least embebedar those that to reach had never obtained me. I want that the formadores of opinion supplicate a thousand plagues against my corpse, then, who does not obtain to curse what it is in the face, at least does not go to arranhar my tomb. I want a epitfio thus: ' ' It died, but he continues insuportvel' '! I want that the bars never close before ' ' saideira' ' interminable and that the bohemians sing until waking up the inherent deafness. In the day where I to die, want they dress that me of black color, after all, I want to seem lean and esbelto.
Who knows comes one to receive anja me? But of the skill that the things walk, I find that I will erase the light and I will close the door. My health is of iron and is stubborn until pra to die. The death alone to reach goes me if I to want, vixe, was to turn side pro and I almost fell. Sarav, my father! Vade backward! Oxe! IT IS MARKED