When they built the highway,
They had to blow up the mountains.
Workmen wedged their sticks into the sleeping stone,
Then ran like they'd stole somethin.
I am just a gypsy black bird,
I came up here to get away
From ribbon-cutters, bone-breakers, sharp shysters and lovers who lie.
Sometimes I see another, prettier bird.
Sometimes I see a climber with the zen in her eyes,
I am alone.
If I were human,
I would take to the streets of some city
With tangles in my hair, no beauty secrets.
I would have dogs, about five of 'em.
I would kiss their filthy heads as if I were the Holy Mother,
Pass love from me to them like morning sun through a honey jar.
But I am just a gypsy black bird,
A speck in the sky;
My flight feathers spell out my name and that's all I need.
There is some man with a plan, or some witch with a little bitty raisin heart
Come dynamite the mountain
And my home of woven straw along with it.
It falls like a spirit out of Heaven, and I take off flapping like hell,
On to the next place,
While people look up and shout,
"Fly like a bitch, baby, yeah!"
And I do.