Lyrics of 'No Interior dos Galpões' by Joca Martins
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Na hora que o sol apeia do lombo largo da pampa
Um poncho negro desaba e o dia muda de estampa
Pelos galpões das fazendas voltam à cena os tições
Formando a roda de mate, confessionário de peões
Do escuro brotam guitarras tropeando notas inquietas
Algum milagre acontece e campeiros viram poetas
Vão despontando pajadas e trovas de rimas tortas
Num ofertório de vidas até pras milongas mortas
As vozes rudes se erguem ponteando o canto dos galos
E as labaredas se agrandam como montando em cavalos
Quem tem raiz nos arreios floresce em lombo de xucros
A casco planta sementes das quais jamais colhe lucros
E o pasto nas invernadas vive seus dias contados
Em vez de vaca com cria vai ter tratores e arados
Por esses peões em vigília junto do angico que arde
Que o universo sangrando põe luto nos fins de tarde.
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