Sometimes it seems I find myself somewhere
I never thought I would be
I thought I saw your face
I thought I felt your grace
And it was rolling right over me
And there were colours fading in with the sunrise
Crashing like a wave in my eye
Deep greens and blues
And spectacular views
Of the village where you chose to die

Must be the poet in me that keeps walking
I can hear him constantly talking
And I'm climbing that hill
Yes I'm climbing that hill
Where the olives and cypresses wave
And I'm climbing that hill
Climbing that hill
To the grave of Robert Graves

There were shutters up at all of the windows
Painted green by a long lost hand
There were soft guitars
And shooting stars
And beaches without any sand
In the heat of the day we were drinking
Glasses of cold San Miguel
In a shady café
We could sit all day
As the church measured time with its bell

Must be the poet in me that keeps walking
I can hear him constantly talking
And I'm climbing that hill
Yes I'm climbing that hill
Where the olives and cypresses wave
And I'm climbing that hill
Climbing that hill
To the grave of Robert Graves

And Deiá was the place you kept returning to
Where your White Goddess had her play
In the words of your songs
When the muse came a long
And the poetry tumbled all day
So now I'm walking this road like a pilgrim
To a churchyard - high up on this hill
Robert Graves in my head
In your footsteps we tread
In an atmosphere so tranquil and still

Must be the poet in me that keeps walking
I can hear him constantly talking
And I'm climbing that hill
Yes I'm climbing that hill
Where the olives and cypresses wave
And I'm climbing that hill
Climbing that hill
To the grave of Robert Graves