Decisão

Dois Corações e uma História / Você Pode Encontrar Muitos Amores

VF Apaixonado - Pt.2

Bateu a Química (Ao Vivo)

Libera Eu (Ao Vivo)

Pra Tomar Uma

A Mulher em Mim

Nossas Fotos - Mari Fernandez

Paredões - Mari Fernandez

Porsche Azul - Mari Fernandez

Um Minuto - Mari Fernandez

Kettle hiss, bare quiet on the block,
Mug rings ghost halos on the old worktop.
You go, “Listen, hear that? House heart, not shock.”
Tick… tocc… tick… tocc.

Warm tile, cold rain, socks half off feet,
Your hoodie on me, dragging round like a sheet.
Onions crying on the board, knife resting mid-chop,
You bump my hip, say, “Babe, you’re moving bare slow, stop.”
We laugh like we’re rich in a room that’s all steam,
Condensation spell-writing on the glass in between.
Your breath draws circles on the window’s dull skin,
Mine writes question marks that never quite begin.

Hood light flickers like it’s rating our chat,
You’re like, “This lamp’s on vibes, it’s not built for all that.”
We’re sixteen going on jaded, going on sage,
Double-spacing trauma in the margins of the page.
Cheap Tesco herbs in jars with no labels,
You swear thyme’s lucky and salt’s for angels.
You stir anti-clockwise, say it bends bad days,
I tap the wooden spoon in little offbeat ways.

No plot to this moment, just you leaning close,
Catching my rant then sprinkling jokes.
You call me “extra” when I overthink stock,
But you stack my worries like plates in a block.
Bare little rituals: two spoons, one pan,
You taste, pull a face, go, “Needs spice, fam.”
And under all the banter, under all that talk,
Something quiet says: stay,
While the minutes walk.

Tick, tocc goes the clock by the fridge,
Hands going round like we’re stuck on a bridge.
But in here, time slips, soft off the rock,
Every stir, every sip resets the whole block.
Tick, tocc, babe, but we don’t shock
We just run our mouths ‘til the worries unlock.
If the world wants rush, let the world mock,
We’ve got stew on the fire and a beat in the crock.

You say, “Love’s just chores dressed peng for the ‘gram,”
Folding clothes, rinsing pain from a pan.
I’m like, “Nah, love’s when you clock I’m too quiet,
And you flip the playlist, switch up the riot.”
Central heating hums like a distant train,
Radiator ticking out old-lady complaints.
You lean on the counter, scrolling half-dead feed,
Talking ‘bout the way your mum taught you to bleed.

You say, “She holds grudges like tupperware lids,
But man, she held it down when I was just kids.”
I nod, stirring slow, tasting that ache,
Thinking of my own lot, all the give and the take.
We trade tiny theories like salt and black pepper,
Why buses move mad and why good things sever.
You rinse the rice clean like you’re rinsing a past,
Say, “Look, no starch, see? That’s how you outlast.”

Bare little sermons in pyjama shorts,
Spills on the floor, unpaid reports.
You talk reincarnation as you wipe the hob,
Say, “If there’s next life, I’m ducking this job.”
I’m like, “In next life, hope we still share plates,”
You smirk, “Same estate? That’s peak, but fate.”
We giggle too loud and the ceiling dust drops,
Upstairs neighbour stomps, but the feeling never stops.

We’re not a storyline, we’re a late-night shop,
Always half-open, always about to flop
But somehow stocked with kindness and knock-off grace,
Price tags peeling, but it’s still our place.

Tick, tocc goes the clock on the wall,
Little metal heartbeat rating it all.
Every second’s like, move, every minute’s like, fall,
But your side-eyes catch me, and I don’t hear the call.
Tick, tocc, your laugh throws it off,
Leaves time wheezing in a second-hand cough.
If growing up’s a cliff, if healing’s a drop,
We’re stood in this kitchen just chatting non-stop.

Your mum in the doorway, arms folded, half-smile,
Eyes saying, “I birthed you,” voice saying, “You’re wild.”
She mutters ‘bout bills, ‘bout lights left on,
“You two think vibes can pay leccy when it’s gone?”
You roll your eyes, “Mum, allow it, I’ve got this.”
She fires back, “You ‘got this’ but not the dish.”
I stand in the middle with the tea and the spoon,
Stirring tension round the room like a monsoon.

tick tock goes the clock

A beautiful young man riding a vintage 1960s motorcycle down a bright, retro city street in the early morning. He has stylish 60s hair, sharp features, and a cool confident expression. He wears classic mid-century clothing — slim-fit jacket, retro sunglasses, and light-toned pants.
The street around him is full of saturated colors, pastel shop signs, chrome details, vintage billboards, and shiny reflections. The sunlight is warm and golden, giving the entire scene a dreamy, nostalgic glow.
Add big bold retro title inside the photo:
“BACK TO 60s VIBE”
Use a strong mid-century font with colorful outlines, perfectly blended into the scene.
Realistic, analog film texture, vibrant tones, crisp details, full retro atmosphere bursting with color and life.

Sugarcane Sweet

ACESSE E BAIXE TUDO DO MUNDO DA MUSICA
http://instagram.com/kikocd1
https://kikocd.blogspot.com/
http://youtube.com/c/kikoCD2
http://facebook.com/kikocd

Um Minuto - Mari Fernandez

KIKO CD - Divulgador

Related tracks