When the bandits have stolen your jewellery and gone And your crippled young gypsy has grown tall and strong And your dead misconceptions have proven you wrong Well then, Princess, where are you planning to turn to? When your magazine memory has spun you 'round And you realize your lovers were just painted clowns And outside your window, you start hearing sounds Where they're building a cross for to burn you When all your bright scarlet turns slowly to blue Will you stop and decide that it's over? When your teardrops go sour and no longer fall They splash across the virgin that lives down the hall And spends all her nights with an ear to your wall Well then, what will you have you can offer? When the fire-dancers finish and leave you alone With nothing but embers and sacks full of stone Hang 'round your neck, slicing through to the bone Will there still be a place for your laughter? As your shattered illusions come a-tumbling home And all of the butchers you've nourished have grown And they're suddenly able to leave you alone And they run like slaves that are set free When your questions are answered and your pleading is done And your mind starts to a-screaming that you ain't the one That once dwelled within you, will you turn, will you run? Oh, Princess, will you come home and get me? When all your bright scarlet turns slowly to blue Will you stop and decide that it's over?