Tear Along the Dotted Line

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The Spanish Amanda

4:30

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When I ended it with Mata Hari 
It never crossed my mind 
That she'd move to the party house next door
Where they groove to the Rolling Stones 
Put on each others' clothes 
Smoke Dutch cheroots on cushions on the bare stone floor 
I hear her in the wee small hours 
Sharing make-up tips with Brian Jones 
And it goes beyond my powers 
Not to break into their garden 
Trash the flowerbeds like a madman 

Tear down the satellites 
Tear up the paper moon 
Tear along the dotted line to oblivion 
Tear along the dotted line 
Dot, dot, dot 

When I split up with Boadicea 
To my intense surprise 
She rocked up at the house next door as well 
Fedex'd back my Centurion's helmet 
My freshly dry-cleaned toga 
Casually she made my life a living hell 
Says she doesn't miss my hypocaust 
'Cos Mata Hari keeps her warm 
Sometimes I get so lost 
It takes an ordnance survey 
To make the colours go away 

Tear up the chromosomes 
Tear down the cells 
Tear along the dotted line to just as well 
Tear along the dotted line 
Dot, dot, dot

When I broke it off with Brigitte Bardot 
Any fool would know 
Just where she'd take her nineteen Shetland ponies 
I hear her singing for them through the wall 
Feeds them sugar lumps 
Barking orders at her Front Nationale cronies 
And if I knocked the wall down 
I know I'll find nothing there 
No one to see me fall down 
No one to stitch my bleeding hands 
Or quench my overactive glands 

Tear down your portfolio 
Tear up your shares 
Tear along the dotted line to anywhere 

Tear down Britannia 
Tear up the maps 
Tear along the dotted line to steady, chaps 

Tear up the book of Moses 
Tear down the cross 
Tear along the dotted line to nothingness 
Tear along the dotted line 
Dot, dot, dot

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