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Lyrics:
I'm sorry that I'm late I went blind I got confetti in my eyes I was held up at yesterday's parties I was needed on the congo line
But my dear, oh, my dear I'd like to fight the good fight for another couple of years 'Cause to say the war is over is to say you are a widow
You're not a widow yet You're not a widow yet You're not a widow yet You're not a widow yet
So this one's for the critics and their disappointed mothers For the cupid and the hunter shooting arrows at each other Ain't no such thing as a saint, Ain't no such thing as a sinner, oh
There's a swan among the pigeons of Barcelona's floor There's a Samson with Delilahs lining up outside the door If you are sharpening your scissors I am sharpening my scissors, And I am sharpening my sword So you can take me to the dragon's lair Or you can take me to Rapunzel's windowsill Either way it is time for a bigger kind of kill A bigger kind of kill
Oh, I see your face when I close my eyes Oh, I see the muscles in your legs from the way you always rise To the occasion of catching things that fall Like the statuettes on pedestals I tend to build too tall But I have navigated Iceland I've laid my claim on Portugal I have seen into the wasteland Oh, the future Oh, the future of us all
Of dead, dead leaves last fall Oh, keep them in her country Of dead, dead leaves last fall Dead leaves Dead leaves Dead leaves Dead leaves
Seen from the back of a train I rode away from your station They drifted in the air Like memoirs of old conversations Sprung from a leather case You opened in the wind To watch the papers chase each other Into oblivion
You're such a champion You're such a champion I hide behind your sun You are the champion
So you can take me to the dragon's lair You can take me to Rapunzel's windowsill Either way it is time, oh, it is time For a bigger kind of kill A bigger kind of kill
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