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    The speculators made their money on the blood you shed
    Your momma's pulled the sheets up off your bed
    The profiteers on Jane Street sold your shoes and clothes
    Ain't nobody talkin' because everybody knows
    We pulled your cycle up back to the garage and polished up the chrome*
    Our gypsy biker's comin' home

    Sister Mary sits with your colors, brother John is drunk and gone
    This whole town's been rousted, which side are you on?
    The favored march up over the hill in some fools parade
    Shoutin' victory for the righteous but there ain't much here but graves
    Ain't nobody talkin', we're just waitin' on the phone
    Gypsy biker's comin' home

    Whoa!

    [Guitar solo]

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    We rode her into the foothills, Bobby brought the gasoline
    We stood 'round her in a circle as she lit up the ravine
    The spring high desert wind rushed down on us all the way back home

    [Harmonica bridge]

    To the dead, well it don't matter much 'bout who's wrong or right
    You asked me that question, I didn't get it right
    You slipped into your darkness, now all that remains
    Is my love for you brother, lying still and unchanged
    To them that threw you away, you ain't nothin' but gone
    My gypsy biker's coming home

    Now I'm out countin' white lines
    'Countin white lines and getting stoned
    My gypsy biker's coming home

    Whoa!

    [Guitar solo]

    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    La la la la
    [fades]

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Bruce Springsteen

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