between the roman churches and the german music halls
were it not for mr gordon and his fine distillery
i might not have got this far it would be all the same to me

i started in bologna when i stepped between the lights
i thought i'd lost my charisma my life flashed between my eyes
the communists rejected me i didn't fit their plan
and anyway i must assume there anti-american

it might have been geneva in a darkened discotheque
and though i met sophia i still got it in the neck
a journalist he spied on me like i always knew they would
he wrote me off like a business trip i felt deeply misunderstood

or maybe it was paris blazing dignity and pride
it's a city full of heiresses where i very nearly died
i woke up in the circus with a whistling in my ears
i'm ready for the antidote can you tell me what it is

i went euromad out on the road last fall
between the roman churches and the german music halls
were it not for mr gordon and his fine distillery
i might have never made it through this euromisery