A ball of crystal sits upon a dais, smoke fills the room
A haggard gypsy woman sits over it prophesying doom
I sit and look concerned, this prophecy has overturned any joy I had within
She clutches my hand, tells me fortune will be lost
She denies my gift of silver and a blessing she embossed upon my very soul
I find the event, very droll
Confounded I leave her tent, with my fate in mind
Telling me of future dooms, surely was unkind?
Though she denied my silver and did a blessing on me
These thoughts shall never leave me, nor allow me to live free
I walk on home, wondering, how long I’ll have that place?
I wonder if a gypsy fortune has been done to displace, my happiness, my heart, my joys
I sometimes wonder if this gypsy loves to toy with people of high class
Knowing my fate of misery is within God’s hourglass
I have respect for gypsies; now don’t get upset for that
I was just taken unawares, by this future fact
I stumble on, in my life, wondering what will go wrong
Hence why I am stumbling for my words, with this little song
But hopefully nothing will happen of that sordid forecast
Maybe by some luck god will smash that sand glass?
However, I wait all tensed, to see if it will come
The story of my ruin, the future that’s so glum
Will it be soon, or quite far?
She never did let on
But anyways, this has given me, a good idea for a song