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Gypsy Biker

Auteur/Compositeur : Bruce Springsteen

Texte chanson

The speculators made their money On the blood you shed Your Mama's pulled the sheets up off your bed The profiteers on Jane Street Sold your shoes and clothes Ain't nobody talking 'cause everybody knows We pulled your cycle out of 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 whole town's been rousted Which side are you on The 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 is comin' home 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 high desert wind Rushed down on us all the way back home To the dead 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 Our Gypsy biker is comin' home Now I'm out countin' white lines Countin' white lines and getting stoned My Gypsy biker is coming home.