That gypsy knew before she could
Your life and mine caged in by night.
We payed her fee, thankful and polite,
But watched Hope flee from her burning wood—
Love would waltz when we told it to,
A performing bear is beaten but loose,
The beggars lost their prayers in a noose
That scraped the blue from the blue bird’s hue.
So now we know. We’re driving into hell.
But our hopes of love along the way
Refresh our minds of an early day
When a gypsy told us what she couldn’t tell.
Based on “La Tzigane” by Guillaume Apollinaire