Gypsy Biker

Cleveland Magic ~ Nov 4, 2007




photo by: yadzr

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The speculators made their money on the blood you shed
Your momma's pulled the sheets up off your bed
Profiteers on Jhames Street sold your shoes and clothes
Ain't nobody talking cause everybody knows
We pulled your cycle out of the garage and polished up the chrome
Our gypsy biker's coming home


Sister Mary sits with your colors, Brother John is drunk and gone
This old town's been rousted, which side you on
The favored march over the hill, in some fool's parade
Shouting victory for the righteous but there ain't much here but graves
Ain't nobody talking but just waiting for the phone
Gypsy biker's coming home


Whoa!


We rode into the foothills
Bobby brought the gasoline
We stood around her circle as she lit up the ravine
The spring hot desert wind rushed down on us all the way back home


But when you're dead it don't matter much
Bout who's wrong or right
You ask me a question I didn't get it right
You slipped into your darkness
Now all that remains
Is my love for you brother
Life's still unchanged
To him that threw you away
You ain't nothing but gone
My gypsy biker coming home


Now I'm out countin' white lines
Countin' white lines and getting stoned
My gypsy biker's coming home


Whoa!


~Bruce Springsteen~













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