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(Herbert Vianna)
Tava deitado e o telefone tocou
Me levantei, liguei meu abajur
Quem me chamava era o meu amor
Que sussurrava numa voz febril
Ficara presa no elevador
Havнamos saнdo com uma turma legal
Comemos feijoada, couve e pernil
Jб na saнda ela passava mal,
O elevador de serviзo em manutenзгo
Ela subiu pelo social
No telefone o meu amor chorou
Nem me contou como o porteiro abriu
Agora veja que situaзгo
Nгo sei se falo mal da safra do feijгo
Ou da imperfeiзгo da indъstria do Brasil

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