if we could be gypsy's again.singing along to beirut,as if we were there when he wrote it,dancing around a fire,half naked in a circle.a tribe of our own.waving our hands in the air,glimpes of our body art, reflect from the fire,almost like shooting stars with blurry trails,that come from the drink.parading with colored hearts and the black and pale flowers we destroyed our bodies with.if we could be gypsy's.if we could be gypsy's