Bells have chimed
I think its plain to see
I just cant think of what it means
If this was painting with intention,
I would dip my brush in gasoline
With a canvas made of matchsticks
And an easel made of fire
You promised me conclusion
Now I wish it was desire
Shutter my eyes like a strobe at night
Split the frames down for my mind
And words do hurt, I swear that lines reversed
It's a great idea, but not the truth
Dont tell me that it's easy
I know your iceberg has a second
Your immaculate devotion
Is stinking of protection