Be careful what you tell the gypsy;

You never know what she'll use against you.

One minute she flows with the way of the world,

and the next, she rejects it.

 

But there is a look in her eye that says otherwise,

Not that she rejected the world,

But that the world rejected her.

 

And in those black eyes stained brown,

There is an intoxication of knowing,

A drunkenness caused by a state of awareness,

Immeasurable even by her.

 

That is why they go to the gypsy in secret,

Because she is an outcast,

A cancerous sore within the villiage,

Who tells fortunes and predicts the future.

 

She's crazy,

At least that's what we all believe,

And the men seen leaving her shack at dusk,

Become stigmatic as well.

 

But they still lustfully seek her "wisdom",

And no one has the heart to excommunicate her,

Because she is the epitome of loneliness,

And even she has forseen,

That her spirit is meant to wander the earth in solitude.