Gypsy Man - Simon Finn

In a run down room off the boulevard

Sat a gypsy and his guitar

Recommended by friends, yes, one could depend

On a future predicted by lies

Well he looked me hard in the eyes

Then said, «All that I say will be lies

You’re a Pisces and a Cath, but that’s all crap»

Then he picked up his guitar and sigh

Oh, my gypsy man

Oh, my gypsy man

Oh, my gypsy man

Sang

How my gypsy man

How my gypsy man

How my gypsy man

Sang

Now this piscean thinks he’ll be cured

In part by words that assure

And by a pretender so bold with delectable falls

That his sex will be continually loved

I said, how do I know that you are real

And not some subconscious yearning reveal

He exposed a gold tooth

And said, «The source of the truth

Makes no odds if your longings heal»

And my gypsy man

Yes, my gypsy man

Oh, my gypsy man

Sang

Oh, my gypsy man

Yes, my gypsy man

Oh, my gypsy man

Sang

Now, this thing that you want most

Is not the thing that you want most

For in in darkness and stars

Lie five billion guitars

Who play only to conjure one ghost