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Gypsy Magdalena

Sweep up the crumbs, vacuum the floor, 
Wipe off the tables and open the door;
Clean off the parking lot rain or snow,
Learn a new language asking Here or to go.

Past the border guards, past the guns,
You came to America on the run;
Gypsy scarves and Material Girl,
Open your eyes to the brave new world.

Hands in my pockets and my eyes cast down,
I'm everything wrong with this American town;
Up all night with my rock'n'roll dreams,
I'm here for breakfast at a quarter past three.

Never left home on a desperate chance,
Never though exile without romance;
Squandered my days on empty thrills,
Five years of college and I got no skills.

     Magdalena I'm not laughing at you--
     I never know what to do,
     I'm a rich kid you're a refugee,
     What's in the stars for you and me.

Talk about love you just scoff,
Talk about politics you get pissed off;
Talk about dreams it ain't your style,
What can I do just to make you smile?

Welcome to America, come home with me,
We'll watch reruns on satellite tv;
Snub-nosed kisses, bullet-proof hearts,
Life and death stripped for parts.

I'll wait out back 'til you get off work,
I'll give you a smile and you'll give me a smirk;
We'll be home when the night is spent,
Don't you worry 'bout payin' the rent.

Power shifts and the walls come down,
The borderlines get moved around;
You and me and the Third World War--
I know you've heard it all before.

     Magdalena I'm not laughing at you--
     I never know what to do,
     I'm a rich kid you're a refugee,
     What's in the stars for you and me.

Cinderella she disparages,
With pumpkins turning into carriages,
Work three jobs and when you're through,
You've got forty-seven pairs of shoes.

Soviet schooling and a hungry heart,
Fill your dreams with a grocery cart;
Look as far as the eye can see,
It all belongs to you and me.

Turn off the news it's a world gone wrong,
Show me your pictures with your uniform on;
Listen to this--I'll play you a song,
I stayed up writin' it all night long.

Read my future tell me what do you see,
There in the bottom of your cinnamon tea;
I see the new morning on the rise,
I see the shadows underneath your eyes.

     Magdalena I'm not laughing at you--
     I never know what to do,
     I'm a rich kid you're a refugee,
     What's in the stars for you and me.
back to Norman, Oklahoma