|
The line of her headband |
|
into the night of her ears |
|
the fountain of hair between those lips |
|
Drink it before it's not pure anymore |
|
Drink it before it's not pure anymore |
|
Gypsy won't have anything with her |
|
she said the line in her hand is too new |
|
and he'll come from across the water |
|
Well his victory comes slow but true |
|
victory comes slow |
|
victory comes slow but true |
|
victory comes slow |
|
I |
|
Life in Grenada |
|
Death in Seville |
|
Dying down in sweet Barcelona |
|
The moon's coming in for the kill |
|
Sunrise attacking a finger |
|
She writes a word in the sand |
|
So green |
|
So fast |
|
So good |
|
Poetry came true this time |
|
Poetry came true |
|
Poetry came true this time |
|
Poetry came true |
|
We're blind |
|
Death in Seville |
