Gypsy

Revolution, revolution in the house where Gypsy lives
On the back porch she professes that there’s no way we can live.

There’s conviction in her speaking and her eyes they look disturbed.
She’s concordances and references to back up every word.

And she points her narrow finger towards a eucalyptus tree
and she says "God is within everything you see."

She’s got black potions in her pantry, Aphrodite in a can.
All the symbols of the zodiac embroidered in Astrakhan.

She’s got a cat named Nosferatu, she drinks strange Norwegian wine.
Keeps a bible on the mantle under last week's TV Guide.

She’s got a statue of the Mary holding on to baby Christ
and she says "Finally Elvis Presley’s really died."

She reads tea leaves, she reads tarots, she reads candle wax & runes.
She reads the dirty palms of strangers in dim-lit smokey rooms.

She’s got a ball made out of crystal that she keeps on her TV
and she talks to apparitions that only she can see.

She’s met Morrison and Lennon, she’s met Jimi Hendrix too,
Well, you think that they’d have better things to do.

She’s got tools of divination she consults on everything
She’s got a star inside a circle on her necklace and on her ring.

And she’s into tantric yoga and ritualistic sex
Khundalini meditation, charms and potions, spells and hexes

And she says "Past life regression is the only way to go,
If you really want to recognize your soul."

And she’s taking off her crystal, lights every candle in the room

And she’s firing up her incense and her eyes reflect the moon.

Well, I don’t know if I love her, but I’d sure like to pretend
So I proceed to tell her stories to let her know just who I am,

I’ve been alien abducted channeled voices from the stars
And it’s Bigfoot put that dent upside my car.

My gypsy lover. . .