We spoke of mercy and grace
of religion as tough as leather
and as delicate as lace.
We spoke of the days of wine
and they mysteries of the rose
We made evergreen promises to each other
and prayed that we would keep them.

Sunlight glistens off the cup
and wine stains the wood
of the table where I sup,
spilling the promises that were mine.
Crimson roses stained with wine.
Mercy and grace fall on those in need
and now my gypsy heart bleeds for me

Fuzzed out guitars are screaming
The sweet sound of drums are beating
and if you listen closely you can hear
the lost sheep bleating in fear
of everything in life you hold most dear.
Itís prismatic light Iím dreaming of
but I lost my peace of the dove.

Iím a bat out of hell
running home to you
cause Iím lost and Iím tired
I donít know what to do
Iím a bat out of hell
and I just missed out on the hard sell
I was just sold out in the hard sell.