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Ten years befire my time, |
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I sang a song to a friend of mine, |
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'Bout a girl working for a dime |
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Although I didn't know |
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that gypsy girl, |
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But knew about her kind of thrill |
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Here love's not cheap but |
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always up for sale |
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Picture this, I was alone |
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But when I sing this song, |
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I'm not alone, |
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With my gypsy girl |
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Gypsy lady lost her soul |
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She's so scared of growing old |
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But words don't age for me to |
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trun to gold |
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Gypsy Girl with raven hair |
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Eyes like saucers, with a stare |
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That says she's the one that |
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never seems to care |
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Picture this, I was alone |
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but when I sing this song. |
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I'm not alone, |
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With my gypsy girl. |
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Gypsy girl plays it fair |
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Throws her hand into the air |
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Saying that she didn't really care. |
