Daddy's Trip to Brazil

I don’t want to meet the local girls.

I don’t to learn more Portuguese, thank you.

Just take me to the hotel, and pick me up when its dark.

I don’t want to see the groovy favela.

I have nothing to say to the local engaged intellectuals.

I don’t want to be reminded, what I did here in 1998.

I haven’t taken a walk in two months.

And the taste of my own blood is in my mouth.

If you really want to help me out

Close the window and call the bell captain.

And tell him to please do something

About the sound of those fucking waves.