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