And where, where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
I’ve heard all the wild reports, they can’t be right
But whose head is this she’s dancing with on the threshing floor?
Whose darkness deepens in her arms just a little more
And where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
Where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
Ahh, the silver knives are flashing in that tired old cafe
A ghost climbs on the table in bridal negligee
She says, « My body is the light, she says, My body is the way »
I raise my arm against it all and I catch the bride’s bouquet
So where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
Where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
It’s too early for the rainbow, too early for the dove
These are your final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood
And there is no man, there is no woman, can’t be touched
But you who come between them, you will surely be judged
So where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
Where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight?
» Mais on ne peut plus traiter le sujet comme un corps malade auquel appliquer différent traitements, c’est un nouveau…