Late september, feeling alone. At a hotel in Frankfurt... In the dim lit glow Think I'll turn up the TV And I'll kick my shoes to the floor And I'll put my sign on the door. Richardson Road, in early May... With rows of pink tulips, Just below the gate You came out of nowhere And pretty soon we had a home And we put a nice sign on the door The newspaper cried out It's solemn decree I said: "It doesn't matter" You didn't agree So we saw different people Though we both tried to lend our support Until we took our sign off the door. Well you raised a formal grievance Had the nerve to even believe it Went around spouting off Just calling people names Well your heart was always ticklish But now you just seem wicked Are you happy now? Is the world a better place? Mad as hell, babe... Mad as hell. You revel in abstinence And you wear it so well Think I saw you on TV But you did not look like before And you were putting some sign on the doors. Back at the hotel, watching TV Think I know what love is But is kinda tricky, I'm a believer But of what I am not really sure... So I ain't putting no sign on the door.