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