| Em | G | Em | G |
| Em | G | |
| She had nut pa | inted arms, that were her's to keep |
| Em | G | |
| And in her fear, s | he sought cracked pleasures. |
| Em | G | |
| The passion of lovers is for death, said she, |
| Em | G | |
| licked her lips, | and turned to feather. |
| Em | G | |
| And as I watched from underneath, |
| Em | G | |
| I be | came aware of all that she'd keep. |
| Em | G | |
| Those little foxes, so safe and sound, |
| Em | G | |
| They were n | ot dead, they'd gone to ground. |
| Chorus: |
| C | B | Em | D | C | |
| The passion of lovers is | for death, said sh | e----- |
| B | Em | |
| The passion of lovers is f | or death. (repeat | ) |
| She breaks her heart just a little too much, |
| and her jokes attract the lucky, bad type. |
| And when she dips and whails and slips her banshee smile |
| She gets the bigger of the better to the letter. |
| (repeat chorus to end) |