BANJO PLAYER

My banjo will deceive you, as says the Lord.
Disguising me with their dissonant chords.
My thick lips that the sun, without pity, burns,
murmurs my greatest pain, to make you learn.
As if it were the composition of laments, so strong,
set to music in the form of a popular song.
Your applause is the clothes that wear me.
I sing an entire race made of artists. Believe me.
There would be no more tears from you or me.
If It's the joy I sing that eternalizes you and me.
The woman who abandoned me, yes she abandoned me
no longer makes me sad. Believe me.
My chords are alive in me and tell my story in pain.
I cry my pain. I sing my pain. I record my pain.