Children with candyfloss   and prizes of goldfish   Young men kill tin ducks   in sharp shooter poses   The laughter of the lovers   on the rickety stairs   The rumble of the diesels   and the sounds of the fair      An old gipsy lady,   in soft Spanish whispers,   took my hands in hers   and told me their secrets:   "Your heart is a fire   and his love is an ember;   you must forget   what you'll always remember"      Superstition's nonsense,   just a fairground attraction   I walk through the neons   in search of distraction   But the tears in my eyes   knew the truth in my heart   She'd only confirmed   what I knew   at the start