The guilt they feel for killing that whalenHer chimney's afirenHer eyesnThe irennAnd with Bible leafnShe fuels her own firenHer eyesnThe ire, the irennAnd with that sinnSinking into their skinnThe sin now a slick on the seannNow she's bound to the landnBy the lance of a mannAnd her fire's trapped in the street lightsnnOh nonWhat you've gone and done with a lifenNow she's bound to the landnBy the lance of a mannAnd her fire's trapped in the street lightsn