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Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Gypsy Queen

When his dear mother died
He did not grieve
He didn't bat an eye
When his pretty wife told him to leave

He spent a lifetime 
Just letting things go
Like he'd never have to feel
What he would not show

And he headed east
Towards New Orleans
Dreaming in the arms 
Of a gypsy queen 

She charmed his eyes
And his riddled mind
With illusions of a future
He would never find

She could see
He was a desperate man
So she picked his pocket
As she held his hand

He so easily placed
His misplaced dreams
In the hands
Of a gypsy queen

But as his pockets
Were relieved of there gold
Like a crushing stone
That gypsy rolled

Then one night
That life would end
Popping dollar beer with Vicodin 
In a $50 room at the chateau inn

Looking out a window
Over magazine
He saw a sad lost man
Being conned by a gypsy queen 

One life over 
A new began
He paid $50 
And he left the chateau inn

He cried for his mother
And he cried for his wife
And he smiled down the road
At a brand new life 

He thought of the horror
And the pleasures seen
Everything has a purpose 
He just paid for the service of a gypsy queen

He thought of the horrors
And the pleasures seen
Everything has a reason
Even that gypsy queen