| Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah
|
| The gypsy flies from coast to coast
|
| Knowing many, loving none
|
| Bearing sorrow havin' fun
|
| But back home he’ll always run
|
| To sweet Melissa… mmm…
|
| Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same
|
| And no one knows the Gypsy’s name
|
| No one hears his lonely sigh
|
| There are no blankets where he lies
|
| In all his deepest dreams the Gypsy flies
|
| With sweet Melissa… mmm…
|
| Again the morning’s come
|
| Again he’s on the run
|
| Sunbeams shining through his hair
|
| Appearing not to have a care
|
| Well, pick up your gear and Gypsy roll on, roll on
|
| Crossroads, will you ever let him go? |
| (Lord, Lord)
|
| Will you hide the dead man’s ghost
|
| Or will he lie, beneath the clay
|
| Or will his spirit roll away?
|
| But I know that he won’t stay without Melissa
|
| Yes I know that he won’t stay without Melissa |