Stealing glances through the keyhole
in a brickwall's wooden door.
Chains are keeping quiet secrets
in two hundred year folklore,
in the graveyard on Elizabeth,
where no one ever goes.
Kneeling, praying to a gravestone,
but the gravestone never tells.

Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.

December crossing arms in Chinatown,
as the wind starts to cut through.
Always, always on the lookout,
but the poison's running through you.
My stomach aches, try to concentrate,
up the stairs, on the third floor.
Now I'm asking a witch doctor,
bu the witch doctor won't tell.

Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.

Floating on the sea, stars are watching me.
Current takes me out, what will be will be.
Floating on the sea, stars are watching me.
Current takes me out, what will be will be.

Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.
Hear the bells.