Put me in a box on the shelf. Send me to hell, might as well. Ain’t no bubbles in my spell. I’ve made it as clear as the ding on a bell. What do you want? Should I yell? And just as quick as your love rose than fell, how long will it last? Only time will tell. Well, hell. What you see don’t come from me.Your reality pulls my strings, makes me sing. My legs are from your childhood. My ribs are from your mother’s drawer. You’ve got my pullstring by the cord. I’m your puppet, your princess, you’re just bored. What you see, it don’t come from me. Your reality pulls my strings, makes me sting. I thought if I loaded the gun of love I could dodge any bullet without a shrug. But when I awake from the hurricane, the gun in my hand is just my brain. No such thing as the gun of love.