Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah.
The gypsy flies from coast to coast
Knowing many, loving none,
Bearing sorrow havin’ fun,
But back home he’ll always run
To sweet Melissa... mmm...
Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same.
And no one knows the gypsy’s name
No one hears his lonely sigh,
There are no blankets where he lies.
In
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