As she turned from the sky to the ground
she heard the chant of the whole human crowd.
“Love myself, love myself, love me, me”
as the only way to ere love another.
Could it be, could it be, but no one should be
wrapped up and engaged with weeds in the fields
that seek to degrade the beautiful, free,
with thoughts of only a me, me, me.
She tried to go back to when it began
and find the corner she didn’t turn round
so she too could be in the valley of “me”
and chant forever in unison.
Now directions for gypsies are none to clear
when issued by someone known not to care
for the you, the you, the you, you, you,
and so gypsies remain as inherently bred.
Who bred them to be so mindful of you
and battle the dragons plaguing your soul
when , oh, that tree of only a me
promises peace and harmony.
Would anyone leave such a paradise
to feel another’s pain and heartache
and she wonders how many would gather at noon
when asked to leave themselves far behind.
She doesn’t sigh as gypsies can do
but proceeds on her journey happy to be
a singer of her own special song
for you, of course, and you, you, you.
Maybe one day she’ll find the corner
and join the chant of humankind
but she doesn’t like corners that lead nowhere
and so she’ll remain as inherently bred.