The speculators made
their money
on the blood you shed
Your momma's pulled
the sheets up off your bed
The profiteers on Jane Street
sold your shoes and clothes
Ain't nobody talkin'
because everybody knows
We pulled your cycle up
back to 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
Gypsy biker's 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 well
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
Lyin' still and unchanged
To them that threw you away
You ain't nothin' but gone
My gypsy biker's
comin' home
Now I'm out countin'
white lines
'Countin white lines
and gettin' stoned
My gypsy biker's
comin' home
La la la la
La la la la
La la la
La la la la
La la la
La la la la