Testo di 'The Razor Blade-eater' di Carlos Lyra

Once upon a hard time
Back in my Ceará
I felt hunger
So much, I decided
To leave all behind me
To look over yonder
And wander away

Got a lift on a truck
With my stuff
Of a wealthy hillbilly
Two pair of old pants
And one ukulele
For worse or for better
I headed this way

Down in Rio I stepped
On the beaches
Of Copacabana,
I slept in the ditches
Of Copacabana
And did funny numbers
For people to see

Holy virgin!
No one can imagine
How much I was hungry
My voice nearly fading
Would make me more funny
While singing my number
So far out of key…

(Spoken): So that was when I decided to eat razor blades. There was an old buddy of mine from back home who'd already come down south and earned a lot of money eating razor blades on the beaches of Copacabana. So when I got there, folks had indigestion from watching that old goat eat razor blades.. One day, I was so hungry that I said like this to a fella walking by: "Hey, mister, don't you wanna watch me eat one little razor blade just for you, your excellency, to see?" "Come on, get out of here!" "Just one little razor blade-'cause I didn't have nothin' to eat today…" "Beat it!" That really pissed me off. If it weren't for the love I have for that little ukulele of mine, I swear I'da smashed it over the head of that son-of-a-b…

Holy smoke!
There was never a joke
As bad as my story
The more I would worry
The more I went broke
And more I felt hungry,
Beginning to starve

When I watched the fellas
In restaurants
Stuffing their bellies
I saw at that instant
How much I was missing
The hunger I felt
Back in my Ceará

And again I would stroll
By the beaches
Of Copacabana
And crawl through the ditches
Of Copacabana
Just singing routines
To the crowds going by

Holy shit!
I was hungry and sick
And hardly a singer
My voice getting weaker
My bones getting thinner
My body so light
That it could even fly...

(Spoken): Sometimes, the hunger was so bad, we'd get into a fight just so's we could catch the grub down at the jail-- really warmed your belly. If you'll excuse the expression, we'd, uh, "return" the food later 'cause the stuff they served up was rotten. But while it was sitting quiet-like in your tummy, now that's what I call happiness! But, wait! Things are getting better now. There's this really nice lady over at Ipanema. She likes to see me eat pieces of glass. That's what I call true kindness. With this, I'm getting some money together. When I get a little more, I'll hit the road, head on back to my Ceará.

'Going back
To my ol' Ceará
Where at least I'm somebody
Out here I'm a hick
And a hungry nobody
A silly hillbilly
Without any means
Gonna split
Out of here before
This whole crisis increases
I fear the world
Is just going to pieces
Can't get any worse
Than it's already been