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 Tropical night, Malaria moon 
Dying stars of the silver screen 
She danced that famous Gypsy dance 
With a hole in her tambourine 
 
I was young enough and dumb enough 
I swallowed down my Mickey Finn 
She'd hijacked a few hearts all right 
I went into a tailspin 
 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't stir it up again 
 
I put my arm around her waist 
Says she, young man, you're getting warm 
The room was going somewhere without me 
And she laughed as she read my palm 
 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't stir it up again 
 
Stillborn love, passionate dreams, pitiful greed 
And the silver tongues of the tinker girls 
Who throw their book of life at you 
But don't know how to read 
 
She was third generation Transylvanian 
I was the seventh son of a seventh son 
I begged the band don't play that tune 
Please don't beguine the begun 
 
When I awoke, she'd cut and run 
She stole my blueprints and my change 
Just a horseshoe and a note on the bed 
And all it said was--strange 
 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't sing me, don't sing me, don't sing me 
No more gypsy love songs 
Don't stir it up again 
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
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