WHEN A GYPSIES LOVE DIES

I remember the gypsy caravans,
the fires burning bright,
the guitars were playing a sweet melody,
we sang and danced all night.
The camp fires were burning,
so were our passions too,
we said it would last forever,
but it wasn't really true.

I hear you call me in the wind,
I feel your energy flow,
this bird wants to fly away,
you have to let me go.
It's time for you to understand,
it could never be the same,
perhaps it's the gypsy in me,
that you will have to blame.

Once you held me oh so tight,
I felt our love was oh so right,
but the fires of passion have burnt out,
it will never be the same I doubt.
It drives me crazy feeling this way,
but I think that we should call it a day.