Kelly Zion (11/27/1994)
Dawn falls on sleeping towns
slowly awakening the gypsy peeps
as light falls all around
the shepherd's carry their wounded sheep
from the alleys and the tumble-downs
to a place to rest in peace.
The gypsies played their old way
but how others took it, they didn’t mean,
the deaf are blinded by their minds,
wolves are all that they can see
they feel the cold metal shears, in every heartfelt loving tear
and racing away, they wrong the songs that said, ”Be free.”
They crash in the bars and stain their wool
doing whatever they feel a need
to get away from the ravening wolves
and find a soothing meadow scene,
but here lie traps, (which they should know)
bloodied hounds, bones, and fiends.
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