Telefone (en inglés)

Telefone
They are three hours of the morning, you binds
For to say things to me that people only understand
Are three hours of the morning, you calls me
With its papo poetry exceeds me

Oh my love This is Oh love my love
This is love Is love... is love...
Its voice is so far to the telephone
Speaks high exactly cries out not if who imports
For loves in the distance is not launches
Our wave of love does not have who cut
Oh my love This is Oh love my love
This is love Is love... is love...
It can be of São Paulo the New York
Or so pretty floating in our River Or so far
mambeando the sea the Caribbean our
wave of love does not have who cut Oh my love
This is Oh love my love This is love