Hear silver trumpets will trill in Arabic streets of Seville   Oranges roll in the gutter   And you pick them up   And peel back the skin   To the red fruit within      But the flavor is...   Tart   And the flavor is...   Tart   Is it something you crave?   And you say that you only feel bitterness   When you know it's a lie, lie, lie...      Wild with a blackberry bush   There were blossoms of cherries to crush   There, at the edge of the asphalt tempting fingertips   They stain your hands, press too hard   They'll color your lips...      But the flavor is...   Tart   And the flavor is...   Tart      Is it something you crave?   'Cos you say that you only feel bitterness   Would it kill you to show us a little sweetness?      Repeat chorus      Odd, where nothing else grows   It was something like love that she chose   Always a creature of habit   When pity would do   She wore down that heel with no feeling   She kept on her shoes      Repeat chorus      Nylon was hung from a peg   And a kohl black seam ran down her leg   Fishermen look for their nets   And send their regrets   The bug lay there broken   She spoke: "Is this some kind of joke?"      But the flavor is...   Tart