Melissa Testo

Crossroads seem to come and goThe gypsy flies from coast to coastKnowing many, loving noneBearing sorrow, having funBut back home he'll always runTo sweet Melissa.Freight train, each car looks the same - all the sameNo one knows the gypsy's nameNo one hears his lonely sighsThere are no blankets where he liesIn all his deepest dreams the gypsy fliesWith sweet Melissa.Again the morning's comeAgain he's on the runSunbeams shining through his hairAppearing not to have a carePick up your gear, and, gypsy, roll on, roll onCrossroads, will you ever let him go?Will you hide the dead man's ghost?Will he lie beneath the clay?Will his spirit float away?But I know that he won't stayWithout MelissaYes, I know that he won't stayWithout Melissa