Was that your idea of love?
Was that your idea of love?

Those brilliantly confected lies –
They hit me straight between the eyes.
Was that your idea of love?

That endless digging for the dirt,
That motive-seeking where it hurt –
Was that your idea of love?

And all those accusations you made
About the subtle ways you’d been betrayed –
Was that your idea of love?

It felt like drowning. It felt like an immersion
In a dark sea of blame
Until I found out that it was all a diversion.
You had a secret game.
You had a game to play and you played rough.
Was that your idea of love?

Funny I never noticed it creeping up on us,
This vengefulness and spite.
Funny how long I went on thinking
There must be a simple way to put things right.
And funniest of all to think of you
Pretending to seek professional advice,
When what you wanted was to be shot of me
At any cost to anyone,
At any price
To me . . .

Was that your idea of love?
Was that your idea of love?

Resentfulness disguised as charm,
That care in plotting future harm –
Was that your idea of love?

That skilful use of evidence
To batter down each last defence –
Was that your idea of love?

That conjuring of bad from good,
That mimicry of victimhood –
Was that your idea of love?

You certainly deserve congratulation
On an effective campaign.
I’d like to know the terms for outright capitulation
But I suppose you’ve made it plain
They’re going to be tough.
Is this your idea of love?

Be shot of me I beg you. Let me be.
Tell me again you want no more of me.
Was that the reckoning?
Was that the sum?
Or is there more of this –
Is there more of this to come?

Is this your idea of love?
Is this your idea of love?

Be shot of me I beg you. Let me be.
Tell me again you want no more of me.

Is this your idea of love?