Fartura dos Súcias - NYC (Live)

Golden rushes bright, a promise of a glass floor
When a shortcut is the only path and effort is forgotten
Men lavish feasts at a table no one took the trouble to lay

The water in the jug carried without breaking a sweat
And the sandcastle cannot withstand the wind that keeps on blowing
Those who live a lie forget to be someone

That is the utopia without the banquet, without the sowing
Sailing a mirage like a sea, the deepest void within the chest
That is the harvest of nothing, the seed that never took root

In this fairy tale, it was the sweat that failed
An easy life is an illusion
The Sun scorches what isn't real

At the end of the journey
Sand is the final destination
Sand is your land

That hand that never felt toil now begs alms of the wind
Lost time cannot be bought back with lament
That gleam of brass cannot quench the thirst of one who seeks gold

Abundance without effort is nothing but disgrace
The shortcut steals your strength
The path teaches you how to be

In the utopia bought, no one learns how to live
That is the utopia without the banquet, without the sowing
Sailing a mirage like a sea, the deepest void within the chest

It is the harvest of nothing, the seed that never took root
In this fairy tale, it was the sweat that failed
An easy life is an illusion

The Sun scorches what isn't real
At the end of the journey
Sand is the final destination

Thanks, Cláudio Fontenelle

The sand isn't your turf
The sand is an empty turf

Abundance without effort is nothing but sand
The Sun shows no mercy to those who don't know what it means to sweat

Sand is your land
Sand is your land