| Crossroads, seems to come and go
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| The gypsy flies from coast to coast
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| Knowing many loving none
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| Bearin' sorrow havin' fun
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| But back home he’ll always run
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| For sweet Melissa
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| Freight train, each car looks the same
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| No one knows the gypsy’s name
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| No one hears his lonely sighs
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| There are no blankets where he lies
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| Though in his deepest dreams the gypsy flies
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| To sweet Melissa
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| Again the mornin' comes
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| Again he’s on the run
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| Sun beams shinin' through his hair
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| Appearin' not to have a care
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| So pick up your gear and gypsy roll on, roll on.
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| Crossroads, will you ever let him go? |
| (Lord, Lord)
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| Will you hide the dead man’s ghost?
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| Lord will he lie, beneath the plain?
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| Will his spirit fall away?
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| But I know that he won’t stay without Melissa
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| Yes I know that he won’t stay without Melissa
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| (That's how the story ends.) |