Gypsy Biker. The speculators made their money on the blood you shed. Your momma's pulled the sheets up off your bed. Profiteers on Jhames Street sold your shoes and clothes. Ain't nobody talkin' because everybody knows. We pulled your cycle up back the garage and polished up the chrome*. Our gypsy biker coming home. Sister Mary sits with your colors but Johnny's drunk and gone. This old town's been rousted which side you on?. They would march up over the hill this old fools parade. Shouting victory for the righteous for you must hear the grace. Ain't nobody talkin' but just waiting on the phone. Gypsy biker coming home. Whoa!. [Guitar solo]. We rode into the foothills Bobby brought the gasoline. We stood around the circle as she lit up the ravine. The spring hot desert wind rushed down on us all the way back home. [Harmonica bridge]. 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 life's still unchanged. To him that threw you away you ain't nothing but gone. My gypsy biker's coming home. And now I'm out countin' white lines. Countin' white lines and getting stoned. My gypsy biker's coming home. Whoa!. [Sax solo]. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la. [fades]