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Gypsy Wind

de Cherokee Rose

"Put down your weapons of war!," cried Mr. Alexander
Raise your glass and pour from this decanter
Fuel my desire, spread it like wildfire
Eventually we'll both end up in this desolate mire

It's a matter of fermentation, degradation
A large price to pay for this instant sensation

One step off of the right track
Simple, selfish humans; we're bound to crack

Helpless victim you are not
It's not a battle you have sought
Let go, let flow
Past resentments are all you've got

My rock has hit bottom
Lucky for me I'd forgotten
I raise that decanter
Like nothing's the matter

These causes connect to the root
As if I didn't know the truth

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