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Itâs clear your former lover will not offer any truce
He will just wreak havoc, how could I trust those Prussian Blues?
And why do you defend him, didnât he smash your guitar?
He certainly drank the liquor from the old fruit jar
Now, it possible he may have been the one who loved you the most
I donât want to compete and I donât like the smell of his ghost
But from what I gather, you are still under his command
This is what I try to understand
I remember last March when you were in Madrid
I admit I left no stone unturned
But I found nothing apart from your old identity card
From which I obtained your real age and a strange middle name
What is it you have done to him, yes, why are you in debt?
Goes against your image as the freeborn suffragette
Scattered bits of evidence found under your bed
I wonder, did he give you proper head?
But if I put my hand on my heart, thereâs one thing I canât ignore
This badly wounded wolf only makes me love you more
How can I be ashamed, no, I didnât do anything wrong
Maybe he could always sort of tag along
I remember July when you visited Minsk
Again I left no stone unturned
But I found nothing apart from that identity card
From which could be obtained your real age and a strange middle name
Hair like a lionâs mane and some old norse name
Hair much like a lionâs mane