Dancing through the bright and loud New York streets my little gypsy queen floated by with her camera in hand.
Snapping memories here and there she found love around those ***** streets and neon lights.

He tried to grab her waist and pull her in but she was too preoccupied with the memories she was making.
Her hair sparkled like glitter and her smile could make the ice caps melt.

Singing to the beat of the sirens and the moving to the beat of the traffic she weaved in and out of local shops like the complex braids in her hair.

She was the queen of the grungy corner kids waiting for one more cigarette.
She was the goddess of adventure and the muse to all who craved the lust of life.
She was the Gypsy.
She was the Artist.

Dancing through the crowded New York underground, my little gypsy queen was unbelievably and undeniably herself in every way possible.

Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Bench said, shoe is untied breath.
Perched the, your on the coffee nervous man.

I see through the trees a young building grows.
I see through the trees a young building grows.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
Trees youth the trees young skies building grows.
And emerald the through, young it’s and, topaz brighten I see young.

The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
The smoke to care too fresh early.
For hand clogs nicotine buildings clouds the it lungs the.  

Their shoes will always be untied, I always nervous.
Scratched knee on the park bench,
Reassuring coffee breath.
Emerald and topaz brightens the eyes of youth,
Second-hand smoke, they cough.
I care too much, we say good-bye to the building.