Standard (EADGBE)

I was blessed to fight with you all night

I hadn't even know what fun

 Oh the war was dressed in scarlet and in white, like the whore of Babylon

Shook your conscience, held it to the light, tried to see what was written on it

 I 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, Baby

 I believe he lost a-hold of himself

 Oh, it wasn't a homicide

 Your doctor was in such poor health

 And I'm a lot like him

 I believe I've lost control

 And those are the terms of our love on parole

Oooh, they found us out in pavilions of doubt

 And cathedrals of longing and death without warning

 The room readied itself for that transfer of power

 When you rode right through in your penultimate hour

 And 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 way

 Oh, ya couldn't make a cup of tea

 Without a battle strategy

 Which doesn't feel right until it takes it toll

 And those are the terms and conditions of our love on parole

 Oh, abrasive and unbearable, a half-step from hysterical

 You stopped waiting for the miracle and started praying for the end

 Oh, you were never less than charitable

 But I can think of nothing so terrible

 As to no longer be your lover and only be your friend

 Now I could never navigate your body's complex narratives

 That which lived and died and lies in stains

And still suffered its imperatives

 And anyway, I was never that interested in your heart and soul

 I just wanted to see you and make love on parole