Flamenco

You threw me out from your heart like a flower that dried.
And like that flower your love without reason died.
I’m standing at your window now, and even moon is gone.
I’m hitting dusty road with boots, I know what must be done.

Navaja knife, my pride and brass, its blade is cold and dry.
I’ll warm it in my lover’s heart, where I before resided.
You won’t feel fear or even pain, you can’t feel anything,
To live for you the same as die, you don’t know what it means.

The church bell’s ringing in thin air and calls to the early mass.
My handkerchief is stained with blood, I think that I will pass.
Navaja knife is cold and dry, its blade has sharpest edge.
I’ll bury it deep in my heart as my love’s lasting pledge.

The sun was rising from the mist, long shadows cool and blue.
The dust was swirling over road, sun beams were shining through.
He lay in dirt with eyes closed tight, withered flower in hand.
Navaja knife was by his side, that’s how flamenco ends.