Here I stand,

a hallow, blank silhouette.

Here I stand,

a montage of loneliness and regret.

Here I stand,

a painting with no color, easy to forget.

Here I stand,

a story that hasn't even happened yet.

Here I stand,

 my life is a slowly burning cigarette.

I have the heart of a gypsy.

My home is the road, I take no love with me.

My heart is a box of freedom and scars.

It was sad, it was happy, beautiful but empty,

 living among fast racing cars.

I was free but still imprisoned.

The road was cold but still enchanted.

A cliché but done my own way.

I may stop but my heart will never stay.

I have the heart of a gypsy.

My home is the road, I take no love with me.

 My heart is a box of freedom and scars.

It was sad, it was happy, beautiful but empty,

living among fast racing cars.