.E do amor gritou-se o escândalo
Do medo criou-se o trágico
No rosto pintou-se o pálido
E não rolou uma lágrima
Nem uma lástima
Pra socorrer>
E na gente deu o hábito
De caminhar pelas trevas
De murmurar entre as pregas
De tirar leite das pedras
De ve.
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