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