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I was blessed to fight with you all nightI hadn't even know what funAll they wore was dressed in scarlet and in white, like the whore of BabylonShook your conscience, held it to the light, tried to see what was written on itI said, "Baby don't ya think, you're being a little bit drastic?There are things in this world that you can't buy with plastic.You blew through your cash like a Klondike miner.Someday you'll maybe feel the lash of the Intelligent Designer."Oh, your doctor died, BabyI believe he lost a-hold of himselfOh, it wasn't a homicideYour doctor was in such poor healthAnd I'm a lot like himI believe I've lost controlAnd those are the terms of our love on paroleOooh, they found us out in pavillions of doubtAnd cathedrals of longing and death without warningThe room(?) readied itself for that transfer of powerWhen you rode right through in your penultimate hourAnd said, "I can see the billboards and the history written large."You said, "That was no-one's wedding, Baby, that was Picket's Charge."And for all of your talk of ending the fray,There's not a part of your heart that would have it that wayOh, ya couldn't make a cup of teaSongtexteWithout a battle strategyWhich doesn't feel right until it takes it tollAnd those are the terms and conditions of our love on paroleOh, abrasive and unbearable, a half-step from hystericalYou stopped waiting for the miracle and started praying for the endOh, you were never less than charitableBut I can think of nothing so terribleAs to no longer be your lover and only be your friendNow I could navigate [by those?] complex narrativesThat which lived and died and lies in stateAnd still [Missed 1] its imperativesAnd anyway, I was never that interested in your heart and soulI just wanted to see you and make love on parole Aus Songtexte Mania