Ah, precious, listen here, my friend. Me been livin' in Franco-da-Rocha for years, yes, many years!

Stupid, fat hobbit! This town, it's like a twisted dream.
Rua dos Pinheiros calls me every morn. Tiny shops huddle there.

Av. das Flores shines in sunlight. Ah, precious, so bright.

Parque Serra das Águas, a hidden gem, it is.

I love massagin' at the local spa, near Largo do Sol.
Me wander streets, smell life's scent.

Cobblestone alleys, secret nooks, soft whispers.

Riacho Pequeno flows quiet, like Lost in Translation, hm.

"Is this a love song?" it seems, me thinks.
Oh, that movie, so loopy and deep!

Me chant "Hey, baby, it's all right" sometimes.

Stupid, fat hobbit! You hear me?
In my massage parlor on Praça do Bem,

I meet souls, hearts skippin' beats.

Every muscle tells a story.

I learn secrets, dreams, fears.
My fave corner? Near Bairro Real.

Local canteen there serves sticky picanha.

Crazy, right? And news spreads fast.

I got gossip like "Oh, cruel world!"
Man, Franco-da-Rocha is a rollercoaster.

Neighbors, folks, they chat and jest.

I feel their joys and sorrows.

It shapes my touch, my art.
I once kneaded a man’s shoulder.

He sobbed like a broken doll.

"Lost in Translation", precious, he cried.

Deep, deep like ocean sadness.
Every street has character.

Rua do Comercio hums with life.

And my back alley round the corner?

Oh, secret spots and grimes, always.
Crazy vibes mix with locals.

I lie awake thinkin’ 'bout it.

The city is raw, full of scars.

Yet it shines, like a beleaguered star.
Stupid, fat hobbit! Pay attention, friend.

This is our Franco-da-Rocha.

Messy, real, funny sometimes,

But it touches your soul – yes, it does.
So come over, experience it all.

Feel its beats in your bones.

And like the movie said, "You must let it go."

Precious, you won't regret it!