The sunsets and the curtains fall I lie down and I bend his will I let my body do the talking Just for a night of cheap, cheap thrill Just for a man who promised much And has done so very little Though my feet be set upon Your royal mighty hill And though my hands be reeking of Your hundred-dollar bills Even when my cup runs over I won't have had my fill And through the night I hear him call No bottomless pit is too deep for me I feel the whip, the nails, the thorns I hear my brothers and sisters weep Now there's this sign against my wall Says grace is free but is not cheap