It loses a lot in translation but if you don't know Portuguese (and do know English) it gives you a sense of why Brasilian musicians were so frequently censored by the government.
Father, take away from me this chalice
of wine tinted with blood!
How to drink this bitter drink
Inhale the pain, swallow the drudgery.
Even if the mouth is shut, the heart still remains
Silence in the city is not heard.
For what is it worth for me to be the son of the holy mother
It would be better that I were born to another
Another less dull reality
So many lies such brute force.
How hard it is to wake up silenced
If I hurt myself in the quiet of night
I desire to release an inhuman scream
Which would be a way to be heard
All of this silence makes me dizzy
Dazed, I remain attentive
In the expectation of, at any moment,
To see the monster of the lake emerge
From so much fat, the hog no longer walks
From so much use, the knife no longer cuts
How hard it is, father, to open the door
With this word stuck in my throat
This Homeric drunkenness in the world
What's the advantage of having good will?
Even if the heart is silenced, consciousness remains
Of all the drunkards downtown
Perhaps the world isn't that small
Nor is life a consummated fact
I desire to invent my own sin
I want to die from my own poison!
And disconnect my mind from yours
May my head lose your way of thinking
I want to sniff diesel fumes
And get intoxicated until I'm forgotten!