text: The speculators made their money on the blood you shed
  Your mommas pulled the sheets up off your bed
  Profiteers on Jane Street sold your shoes and clothes
  Aint nobody talking 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 Johnnys drunk and gone
  This old towns 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
  Arent nobody talking, but just waiting by the phone
  Our gypsy biker coming home
  Whoa!
  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 us all the way back home
  To the dead, well it dont matter much about whos wrong or right
  You asked me that question, I didnt get it right
  You slipped into your darkness, now all that remains
  Is my love for you, brother, lifes still unchanged
  To them that threw you away, you aint nothing but gone
  My gypsy bikers coming home
  And now Im out counting white lines
  Counting white lines and getting stoned
  My gypsy bikers coming home
  Whoa!
  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