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      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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