The Gypsy's Haunt

 

Strange moods - strange words -

Strange silences - in the night

 

Stood in the road - just still

Listening to - the lonely softness

 

It comes from far - I've known it before -

In many places across the world

 

Quiet lanes, in the heart of France.

Under a tree - brushing the van

 

Caressing and tapping - there on the verge

Just a few cottages - growing around

 

A single lamp - a few farm buildings

A low-walled graveyard and a small playground

 

Old town squares, silent at night

I think of my son - at home in his bed?

 

I see him on a bike, down these Spanish lanes

Breakfast in the cafe, down the narrow alley

 

For a pleasant half hour, you feel people's warmth

Sit cozy in the corner, over your con leche

 

Watch her clean the door glass - with a newspaper!

Exchange a few words with the proprietor

 

But really we're alone and that's OK

Centred in myself, I'm happy here

 

I've been alone - known it's touch

Divides you out - makes you know

 

Life is a mood and strange silences

Plucking your collar and your heartstrings

 

The breeze in the street that plays tonight

A haunting capriccio, brushing my cheek

 

Scenting my nose, with all of those places

Where I slept alone, all of those nights

 

Here in the road - down all those lanes

In all of those trees - in all of that breeze

Over all of those miles, mountains and fields.

Over all of those miles, mountains and fields.