Smallish mouse of the Favelas Hands cut off at the urging of the good ones Twist the stip of your wrist Leave the last of your sin Leave the stip of your arm As you wait for the lost one Oh what is the first thing you’ll touch? What are the first mosquito that you’ll crush me? On the pink bare glass Will you smash it on the wall Just be glad that you can drink from where they get it Little mouse of the Favelas Hands to be transplanted by the grace of Portuguese cherry Oh what is the first thing you’ll touch? What are the first mosquito that you’ll crush me? On the pink bare glass Will you smash it on the wall Just be glad that you can drink from it again Bleed a scar on your wrist Worse than the one you passed out But those fix only that although Iberia(?) has caused all your angst Oh what is the first thing you’ll touch What are the first tarantula that you’ll crush me On the pink bare glass Will you smash it on the wall Just be glad you can drink from where they get it