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