Lost and wandering, always on the roam.
Searching for a place; a gypsy without a home.
Never knowing what's to come, or even why.
All the pain and torture leaving me to cry.
Trapped and isolated like an animal not fit to be free,
They saw a freak, they saw a disease, but they never saw me.
But a new moon rose and my confidence grows
In a field free to be Ruby, Poe, Etteloc, or even me.
Full of freaks and gypsies, eyes never judging,
Only warm, accepting, knowing and loving
In a world that seems to be just as strange as I,
On the Faire fields at Cutlass Cove, that's where I lie
With gypsies, freaks and friends all by my side.