| Soft glow on the city
|
| She said, "There's no one here who can touch you now"
|
| Caught the last flight out of LAX
|
| With your one-way ticket, New York-bound
|
| Climb so high, don't make a sound
|
| Don't you forget what goes up must come down
|
| Climb so high, tell me how it feels
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, hallelujah
|
| Makes no difference here, so let's be real
|
| Black Madonna, my black flower
|
| Nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide
|
| You're not havin' fun, I think that you should ride
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, my hallelujah
|
| On the phone you sound shifty
|
| You say that you're at home, alone right now
|
| But in the background there's a muffled laugh
|
| As you spin that wool and pull it down
|
| Climb so high, don't hear a sound
|
| Don't you forget what goes around, comes around
|
| Climb so high, tell me how to feel
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, hallelujah
|
| Makes no difference here, so let's be real
|
| Black Madonna, my black flower
|
| Nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide
|
| Says it should be gone, at least it was this time
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, my hallelujah
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, hallelujah
|
| Makes no difference here, so let's be real
|
| Black Madonna, my black flower
|
| Nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide
|
| You're not havin' fun, I think that you should ride
|
| Call me when you're ready to be real
|
| Black Madonna, my hallelujah |