If your hair was a call to arms   And your legs were what skirts are for   Then your mouth was a red alert   But your eyes were an act of war      That I needed a nurse and a mother   I needed an open-minded whore   I needed a barmaid and a lover   Someone to stand between me and the floor      But when we attacked, it was never swiftly   We must have been locked in combat for years   A new hardwood floor was a perfect battleground   So I'll suppose the bullets were our tears      Well okay, I know we threw some things about   And I'm sure that you got in a punch or two   And is it true when your comrade's been asking   If I'm the sort of man who could ever sink to hit you too      Why does she always have bruises?   They'd be much happier apart   The fact is, you've always been clumsy   Be it with tables at your work or with my heart