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!

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