When the bandits have stolen your jewelry and gone
And your crippled young gypsy, hes grown tall and strong
And your dead misconceptions have proven you wrong
Well then, princess, where you plannin to turn to?

When your magazine memory has spun you around
And you realize your lovers were just painted clowns
And outside your window you start hearing sounds
Where theyre building a cross for to burn you

When all your bright scarlet turn slowly to blue
Will you stop and decide that its over?
When your teardrops go sour and no longer fall
The splash cross the virgin that lives down your hall

And spends all her nights with an ear to your wall
Well then, what will you have you can offer?
When the firedancers finish and leave you alone
With nothing but embers and sacks full of stone

That hang round your neck, slicing through to the bone
Will there still be place for your laughter?
As your shattered [bad word] a-tumblin home
And all of the butchers youve nourished have grown

And they are suddenly able to leave you alone
And [bad word] like slaves that are set free
When your questions are answered and your pleading is done
And your mind starts to screaming that you aint the one

That once dwelled within you, will you turn, will [bad word] Then princess, will [bad word] home and get me?