As Memórias Do Amanhã Longínquo

Something about Pereira

There is this guy in the bar

Always with a glass of cheap wine,

Always drunk,

With his rubber boots all seasons,

Lost inside of himself,

Repeating always the same,

Living his nightmares silently,

Moaning sometimes,

Dirty, but shaved.

Sometimes he sleeps outside

On the street,

On the floor, alone,

Like a dog without master,

Drunk.

There is this guy who was

In the war, fought for the country,

Big crap to fight for,

And now the country

Sees him as a joke.

Younger man

Look at him as a broken, old toy,

Pay him drinks to watch him

Fall from the bench,

Take his hat away,

Hide his food, his few belongings,

And laugh like that was a funny thing.

There is this guy with no wife,

No children, no real friends,

A ruin, a memory,

Far away from the bar,

Far away from the younger guys

Around him, at midnight.

While this guys are laughing

At his misery,

Their friends are banging

Their wives,

Their daughters are blowing

Some cock inside a car,

And they may never live

As long as this old guy lived.

There is this guy in the bar

As free as a man can be,

With nothing to lose,

With nothing to prove,

Lost in his own world

Because the outside world

Has fucked him enough.

B.