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