Gypsy Biker

The speculators made their money on the blood you shed Your momma's pulled the sheets up off your bed Profiteers on Jane Street sold your shoes and clothes Ain't nobody talkin' because everybody knows We pulled your cycle up back to the garage And polished up the chrome Our gypsy biker's comin' home Sister Mary sits with your colors, brother John is drunk and gone This old town's been rousted, which side you on? They favored march up over the hill in some fools parade Shoutin' victory for the righteous But there ain't much here but graves Ain't nobody talkin', we're just waitin' on the phone Our gypsy biker's comin' home Whoa! We rode her into the foothills, Bobby brought the gasoline We stood 'round her in a circle as she lit up the ravine The spring hot desert wind rushed down on us all the way back home To the dead, well, it don't matter much 'bout who's wrong or right You asked me that question, I didn't get it right You slipped into your darkness, now all that remains Is my love for you brother, lying still and unchanged To them that threw you away, you ain't nothin' but gone My gypsy biker's coming home Now I'm out countin' white lines Countin' white lines and getting stoned My gypsy biker's coming home Whoa! La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la La-la-la-la