| I have given to you, Jane
|
| A torn and tattered love
|
| But do you hear the tolling bells
|
| That ring down from above?
|
| I thought I’d rule like Charlemagne
|
| But I’ve become corrupt
|
| Now I crawl the promenade
|
| To fill my empty cup
|
| And you’re free
|
| You’re free again
|
| One more time
|
| Now if you found a razorblade
|
| And took it to your wrist
|
| Then I’d be here in my electric chair
|
| Because of this
|
| All last night and night before
|
| I stood on the pier and cried
|
| But I don’t want to turn away
|
| For fear of going blind
|
| And you’re free
|
| You’re free again
|
| One more time
|
| I have given to you, Jane
|
| A bruised and beaten love
|
| But do you see the cold white light
|
| That shines down from above?
|
| Thought I’d rule like Charlemagne
|
| But I’ve become corrupt
|
| Now I’ll crawl the promenade
|
| To fill my empty cup
|
| And you’re free
|
| You’re free again
|
| One more time
|
| Oh you’re free
|
| Yeah, you’re free again
|
| One more time |