New York Room Minion Of The Gypsies
in the tomb of my desire
sleeps the ghost, burns the fire
of days gone by
the lost dominion
she is the one with four faces
metal wings and the traces
of tears that dried
she is the minion
she needs nothing and no one
she has seen and will become
all that we are
in her creation
all we want is forbidden, then hidden from us
she will give back what they have taken
and break the chains
when she reveals, when she appears
when we are saved
when she returns, when she is real
when we are safe
the palest angel of this earth
has taken shape, has given birth
to ways gone by
the last dominion
taste the curse of the gypsy
kiss her mouth and now kiss me
the priestess lied
now you are forgiven
old men and the books they hold sacred
give into the hatred
of feelings that died
the trumpets have sounded
