Deborah Conway It was all in black and white And now I feel so blue One piece of crinkled paper Making short work of you The whole thing's a muddle But Madame Butterfly is in trouble There was a plan made But not followed What will they say about tonight It was written in the stars That we three would collide You and me sprawled in the rubble (And our good friend) Madame Butterfly is in trouble You know it's all just howdy doody So why get so uptight Love's a frame-up Whoever's out there could be in bed with me tonight I'd take anyone just to cuddle That's why Madame Butterfly's in trouble And if God looked me straight in the eye And told me he loved me I'd think he was lying So what hope have we got? If we all dress like Liberace And dance like Fred Astaire If we become so much larger Than our little lives could bare It's the riddle in the bubble (coming out of some cartoon) And Madame Butterfly's still in trouble Call me diva Call me princess Put me on the stage Let me sing high take my clothes off And watch you be outraged I need to shock and make you goggle (very immature) But Madame Butterfly lives to make trouble I was dreaming But I'm awake now And I have been deceived She's the sly one she's the sly one So why do I have to leave But in the mirror I see double (she is me alright) And Madame Butterfly is trouble
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