Lyrics of 'Degradê' by Rogéria

Ele com o vinho na mão
De roupa amarrotada
Ali em frente a calçada
Corrente no pescoço
Olhar certeiro curioso
Tenta a cara de bom moço, por quê?

Não outra mão um porta cd
Num pé tinha chinelo preto no outro degrade
À noite sentinela era
E a lua se ver da janela só espera amanhecer

Ele e ela conversando em troca de olhar
Ele era porta a fora ela sala de estar
Será agora simplesmente mais uma questão
De apreço a consciente
Passo se tiver de ser

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