The swirling gypsies dance around the fire in my heart.
The fire that started, just a spark, a spark that formed a flame.
The flame it grew, and grew, and grew till it could not be contained.
The spark now stands a flaming pillar, one that has no end.
They dance with rapture, all consuming, before this mighty blaze.
My heartbeat is a clarion call, the drum that beats away.
They stomp and stretch and beat their chests, giving vent to their unrest.
Each step they take is full of grace and yet so full of pain.
In pain they howl, in pain they growl, displaying their disdain.
They bite their lips while drawing blood that trickles down their face.
Their blood, it falls on the earth below which lies in such decay.
There is anger in their blood, there is fury at its core
All they truly hope for is for love to rise again
Their blood, it falls on parched soil, nourishing its veins.
The swirling gypsies dance around the fire that can’t be tamed
They dance in their anguish, at the state of this world.
This world of paradoxes broken and splendid all the same
The fire and the gypsies start to move as one, they heave and they sigh
Merging into one
They dance the dance that wakes my soul, uniting with the flames.
My being alight, it spreads it’s light across the cosmic fold.
The dance of death, the dance of birth sends echoes through the void.
The swirling gypsies heave and writhe as they dance around my soul.