La Algarabía

I'm not to blame, dad
That life is so ugly
Of color and ambrosia it will be
The empty Alameda

May the Moon implore you
Rumors of song
I take the pulp that gives
The fruit of your fictions

The commotion has already sounded
The one that silenced my song
If I die of agony
I will die singing

May the Moon implore you
Rumors of song
I take the pulp that gives
The fruit of your fictions

The commotion has already sounded
The one that silenced my song
If I don't die of agony
I will die singing

(By the jar of the old balcony
A copla sounded)
The songs of my heart
Are not expensive and they are good

(By the jar of the old balcony
A copla sounded)
The songs of my heart
Are not expensive and they are good

(By the jar of the old balcony
A copla sounded)