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Softly, in the evening dusk, a woman is singing to me; |
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She takes me back down the vista of my years, until I see |
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I see a child underneath the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings |
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Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings. |
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Cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Softly now in the evening dusk, a woman is singing to me; |
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She takes me back down the vista of my years, until I see |
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A boy, a child underneath the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings |
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Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings |
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Yearning to belong, yearning to belong |
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My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong |
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In spite of myself, and all of these nursery songs |
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My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong |
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Cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Singing cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Till the melodies of childish days, are upon, upon me |
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And they take me back, back down the river |
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They keep leading me on, they lead me to the sea |
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And all of my manhood is cast |
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Down in the flood of remembrance, and I weep like a child for the past. |
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Singing cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Singing cucurucu, cucurucu |
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I see a child underneath the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings |
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Pressing the poised feet of his mother who smiles at him as she sings. |
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Listen to me son, I'll tell you why your feather's strong |
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Cause he can still say every single day, he's yearning to belong |
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Yearning to belong, yearning to belong |
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My heart beats with a ceaseless longing of a yearning to belong |
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In spite of myself, and all of these nursery songs |
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My heart beats with a ceaseless, meets with a peaceless burning to belong |
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Singing cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Singing cucurucu |
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Singing cucurucu, cucurucu |
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Cucurucu |
