A Gyspy's Goodbye

A Gypsy's Goodbye
© Meesa Caudill


Fingers cramping from gripping this steering wheel-
legs are numb, gas pedal's the only thing I feel.
Broke off the rear-view, can't look back now-
making you part of the past, gettin' out of this town.
Saying goodbye was just too hard to do-
easier to pack my bags and sneak out on you.
I left a note on the bedroom door,
telling you why I can't do this anymore.
I was a coward, but your tears are too much to bear-
and if I looked into your eyes I'd never go anywhere.

So I'll follow my heart and see where the blacktop leads.
I can't give you all of my love, you can't give me what I need.
Now it's just me and my demons on this dark, open road-
running away from love again because of my gypsy soul.

They say to follow your heart and it won't steer you wrong-
but each time I follow it I end up alone.
Maybe this old soul is just destined to fly-
'cause when love gets too close I tell it goodbye.
Should've been a trucker as much as I run-
get too close to my heart, I'm like a bullet from a gun.
I always take off before I know where to land,
no destination in mind, completely unplanned.
It's better this way, you'll find someone new,
one who can give the love I could never give to you.

So I'm following my heart to see where the blacktop leads.
I couldn't give you all of my love, you couldn't give me what I need.
Now it's just me and my demons on this dark, open road-
running away from love again because of my gypsy soul.

Gypsy Thoughts

My gypsy soul is getting restless-
I've been in a coma for thirty-one years.
My heart longs to get out of this town-
forget the past, the pain, the tears.
Let's follow some railroad tracks
just to see where they go.
Let's get into my car and drive non-stop
listening to the radio and the wind blow.
We don't need a suitcase
some duffle bags will have to do-
let's pack some stuff and get out of this state,
leaving behind all we've been through.
Maybe we could hop on a Greyhound bus
choosing our destination with a dart-
follow the lines drawn out on a map...
follow our dreams, and our hearts.
Let's get out of here and find ourselves
somewhere outside of this big little town-
let fate and destiny be our guide,
and stop letting our fears hold us down...
Come on, baby, run away with me-
let's make our own place in this world.
Say you'll be my gypsy man-
and run away with this gypsy girl.

Caged Bird Singing

Trapped.
Confined.
Suffocated.
Imprisoned.

Caged.


Do you ever get the urge to just run away from everything? To just sell or throw away everything you own and take off in whichever direction you choose just to see where the road goes?

I want to run away. Run away from this dead-end job. Run away from the boredom of Lexington. Run away from the norm. Run away from the things that haunt me. Run away from this life and start a new one.

I've been wracking my brain for what seems like forever- trying to figure out what is missing from my life and how to turn my life into what I want it to be. No conclusions have been come to and I'm still at a loss. I still have no idea where I want to be and what I want to be doing with my life. I'll be 31 years old in two weeks and I have nothing to show for my time on this planet. No family. No career. No adventures. I have been walking around like a zombie since I came into this world and I yearn to LIVE.

How do you do that when you're flat broke and drive a piece of shit car that you can't even depend on to take you across town? Does being poor confine us to a life of dreary days with nothing to look forward to? Whether I live the life of a gypsy for six months or not- I know one thing... I've got to do something, anything, before I lose my mind.


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Maya Angelou


"The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."