Today I decided
I decided not to kill you
Invite your lover to dinner on Sunday
Sunday’s the day
For chicken and chips
You’ll stretch your foot out to him under the laid table
At the bottom of the garden under our big rose tree
And you’ll be wearing a flaming smile
Dolorosa, Dolorosa, Dolorosa, Dolorosa
And then you’ll go to get the chicken and chips
And what will I and your lover talk about
Football, poetry or maybe his work
Or perhaps about you, Dolorosa
perhaps about you, Dolorosa
I’ll open a great wine, you’ll open your blouse
My gaze will drift far away, nearly embarrassed
He’ll ask you to behave a bit
In your ear he’ll promise you everything
As I had promised everything, Dolorosa, Dolorosa.
Dolorosa
I’ll find him too handsome I’ll find you very beautiful
Your face will have lost so many years
Your eyes will lock together Dolorosa
Your eyes will lock together
And then we will have drunk
Yes, we will have drunk too much
Surrounded by your gasps I won’t exist anymore
On tiptoes I’ll leave the table
And distance myself from the knowing giggles
Dolorosa, Dolorosa, Dolorosa, Dolorosa...
At the bottom of my garden two lovers are going to make love
I’m not going to kill them, I’m not going to kill them