I am lying on the floor,
I'm a lion or a lizard of the Lord,
But I am smiling all the way,
I only came to say goodbye, to say goodbye.

Raise your head up my dear,
It's only bitter in the winter of the year,
And I am leaving all the way,
I did not come to watch you cry, to watch you cry.

The bed is better than the floor,
The pen is mightier and lighter than the sword,
And though the light in here is gray,
And I'm smiling all the way, all the way.

Before the bugle sounds,
You will shine like a flower in the ground,
Before the bugles ring,
Before the crying of the raindrops of the spring.

The sentimental gentemen,
They play marraccas and the tablas in the band,
There's talk of movies and the east,
And something whispers that the future is deceased.

I'm a lymie hon,
I'm a proselytizing, righteous kind of son-of-a-gun,
Place your loins before your grail,
And take vacations from the feelings that you fail.

I am lying on the floor,
I am trying not to be here anymore,
But I am smiling all the way,
I only came to say goodbye, to say goodbye.