From the recording When It's Not
The moon was shining bright against the shadowed border town,
a heavy scent of Mescal filled the air.
Distant sounds of music cried like spirits in the wind,
then I heard the voice that drew me in.
She sang just like an Angel who was sent to earth for me,
as the night was growing thicker I knew she’d never set me free.
Trapped inside a world that’s neither real nor in a dream,
just a part of the Gypsy’s evil scheme.
Her flowing hair shined black against the velvet dress she wore,
her beauty stole the sight of every man.
And when she brushed against my cheek and smiled into my soul,
the fates of men before me now were told.
Hours turned to years in the passing of one night,
as she whirled around the room and sang her tune.
Memories of the past seem to vanish in her song,
and in this world is where I now belong.