Dialtone
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Eyes clear as dial tone
Are you at home? Are you alone?
I call on the phone
Where have you gone?
Are you out on the street?
Dead on your feet
Or harvesting wheat?
My introvert
Are you out chasing skirts?
Singing fiddle me wo, fiddle me do
Your lady in her antechamber
Turtle dove, my bird of tale
My purple-haired
My nightingale
My cold-crowing fool
A cold corkscrew
Is it me who's insane?
Or is it you who's got sex on the brain?
Always discreet, always obscene
Difficult to leave
Is calling me still
Your lady in her antechamber
And time is passing
And you don't call
And my crest falls
So where are you now?
Out with some cow?
At some Japanese inn?
Opening pork
Cooked in its skin?
Pouring red wine
Like blood down the stream?
Singing fiddle me wo, fiddle me do
Your lady in her antechamber
Eyes clear as dial tone
Here comes the queen
Always discreet, always obscene
Pussing her luck
Like a paper monster
Don't think she hasn't got an IQ
Even more gruesome monsters
Not dead yet
Like you
Singing fiddle me wo, fiddle me do
Your lady in her antechamber