VERSE 1:
crossroads…
seem to come and go, yeah…
the gypsy flies from coast to coast
knowing many…
loving none
bearing sorrow…
having fun…
but back home he’ll always run…
to ‘sweet melissa’… mmm…
VERSE 2:
freight train…
each car looks the same…
all the same…
and no one knows the gypsy’s name…
no one hears his lonely sighs…
there are no blankets where he lies…
in all his deepest dreams the gypsy flies…
with ‘sweet melissa’…
mmm…
BRIDGE:
again the morning’s come…
again he’s on the run…
sunbeams shining through his hair…
appearing not to have a care…
well, pick up your gear and gypsy roll on
roll on…
VERSE 3:
crossroads…
will you ever let him go?
(lord…lord..)
will you hide the dead man’s ghost?
or will he lie beneath the clay?
or will his spirit float away?
but i know that he won’t stay…
(without melissa…)
yes i know that he won’t stay…
(without melissa…)
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