It's that time of year again
I see a little sunbeam
smell the coffee roasting
and the scent of the sea
remembering how I can't wait
hear the drums beating
like the heart of the jungle
an engine of strength, rhythm and lust
that we follow in procession
down the street, by the beach.
The taste of cachaça
in the sweet and sour caipirinhas
and vodka
in a socialist caipiroska
float weightless
in the lança perfume cloud
surrounded by happiness on an endless crowd
Lost in her green and stormy eyes
dance and walk and follow
her flame throwing hips
sea salted cinnamon skin
sun and surfboard wax highlights
sand in my shoes and in my ears
as Chiclete com Banana plays all night
and we dance and we kiss
and we love and we melt
on a warm summer night
it's the Brazilian Carnaval
and I can't wait to be back
and forro my way straight to hell
on Boa Viagem beach.
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