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But all should know that i have not died....
Forget your acrid, lemon tears and dry your orange eyes
They searched far and wide for my body, but it was inside
the furrowed and strained vineyard of despair

Intertwined with all the other bones of freedom, laid there....
Shot for trying to give some people hope
Just when it looked like they could not cope....
A raging bull of a twisted sexual surprise

A handsome youth with tears welling in his eyes....
And born to live and portray Spanish life, his words immortal
Shines like the moon, through a divine inspired portal
And although they tried to stifle the beauty of a false, disguise....

The gypsy's love, the horses head dared to rise....
And try to kiss, the moonlit night
A shattered skull and a blood gorged prism of light
Laid to rest, for trying to give the Spainish, peasants, second sight
Amongst the anguish of the terrible, bloody, civil fight

As the world cried out at Franco's nerve...
Denial and betrayal, Lorca did not get what he deserved
His immortal poetry, did never lie....
But all should know that i have not died....

Georges