The Razor Blade-eater

Once upon a hard time

Back in my Ceará

I felt hunger

So much, I decided

To leave all behind me

To look over yonder

And wander away

Got a lift on a truck

With my stuff

Of a wealthy hillbilly

Two pair of old pants

And one ukulele

For worse or for better

I headed this way

Down in Rio I stepped

On the beaches

Of Copacabana,

I slept in the ditches

Of Copacabana

And did funny numbers

For people to see

Holy virgin!

No one can imagine

How much I was hungry

My voice nearly fading

Would make me more funny

While singing my number

So far out of key…

(Spoken): So that was when I decided to eat razor blades. There was an old buddy of mine from back home who'd already come down south and earned a lot of money eating razor blades on the beaches of Copacabana. So when I got there, folks had indigestion from watching that old goat eat razor blades.. One day, I was so hungry that I said like this to a fella walking by: "Hey, mister, don't you wanna watch me eat one little razor blade just for you, your excellency, to see?" "Come on, get out of here!" "Just one little razor blade-'cause I didn't have nothin' to eat today…" "Beat it!" That really pissed me off. If it weren't for the love I have for that little ukulele of mine, I swear I'da smashed it over the head of that son-of-a-b…

Holy smoke!

There was never a joke

As bad as my story

The more I would worry

The more I went broke

And more I felt hungry,

Beginning to starve

When I watched the fellas

In restaurants

Stuffing their bellies

I saw at that instant

How much I was missing

The hunger I felt

Back in my Ceará

And again I would stroll

By the beaches

Of Copacabana

And crawl through the ditches

Of Copacabana

Just singing routines

To the crowds going by

Holy shit!

I was hungry and sick

And hardly a singer

My voice getting weaker

My bones getting thinner

My body so light

That it could even fly...

(Spoken): Sometimes, the hunger was so bad, we'd get into a fight just so's we could catch the grub down at the jail-- really warmed your belly. If you'll excuse the expression, we'd, uh, "return" the food later 'cause the stuff they served up was rotten. But while it was sitting quiet-like in your tummy, now that's what I call happiness! But, wait! Things are getting better now. There's this really nice lady over at Ipanema. She likes to see me eat pieces of glass. That's what I call true kindness. With this, I'm getting some money together. When I get a little more, I'll hit the road, head on back to my Ceará.

'Going back

To my ol' Ceará

Where at least I'm somebody

Out here I'm a hick

And a hungry nobody

A silly hillbilly

Without any means

Gonna split

Out of here before

This whole crisis increases

I fear the world

Is just going to pieces

Can't get any worse

Than it's already been