| In this faraway land of sun and passion
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| The air is charged with fire and sounds
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| Anticipation gripping as the moment is near
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| Through the mist on surreal stage lights appear
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| The red gypsy as an enchanted being unveiled
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| By her looks alone commanding, so profound
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| She is the incarnation of grace
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| She is the definition of passion
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| When she dances, sparks fly
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| And those around are consumed
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| Seduced and mesmerized under her spell
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| She leaves them all broken, but satisfied
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| As a mythic bird she rises flying
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| Her arms are wings on fire
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| Her dress a tornado of colours swirling and turning
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| Striking her rhythm, to the sound of thunder
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| A vision conjuring glimpses of heaven and hell
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| Like a fallen angel she temps, sometimes repels
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| Like a phoenix reborn from its ashes
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| She comes alive dancing to the fiery rhythm
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| Her image branded deep inside your soul
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| Like a scar that heals but is a reminder still
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| As a mythic bird she rises flying
|
| Her arms are wings on fire
|
| Her dress a tornado of colours swirling and turning
|
| Striking her rhythm, to the sound of thunder
|
| The red gypsy as an enchanted being unveiled
|
| By her looks alone commanding, so profound
|
| A thing of beauty and imagination
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| The eternal dance of intense emotion
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| Forever alive, forever remembered |