The creepy piano that starts the verse drops at this point, indicating a drop of rage to a more tranquil fury.

The temperature has to be at least 158 degrees Fahrenheit in order to fry eggs.

It’s doubtful that the overall temperature is 158 degrees, unless there’s a sidewalk or another heat-absorbing surface nearby, but it’s a visceral image.

Compared with the rest of the song, Ivy displays more obvious signs of cracking like an egg and going bonkers.

No matter what place in the US, or at what time, the fools won’t give her a break.

Ivy also lets out her largest note here, with her distress and frustration climaxing.

The Son of Sam, real name David Berkowitz, was a serial killer so elusive, an task force of 200 detectives was formed to hunt him down. He wasn’t a total basket case, but his sexually charged knifings were quite insane.

So step away and turn down the heat, or she’ll make heads roll. Maybe literally.

Hey, maybe she’ll write that kind of song. It’ll be satisfying hearing those gold diggers go down…bleeding on the ground. Not down on her. This ain’t rap!

Florence pulls a triple entendre. She’s referring to:

1. Drinking in her lover’s dominance over her during their sessions. It’s sweet because she relinquishes control in exchange for pleasure.
2. Drinking in wine, as mentioned in the next line. Wine could also be sweet and entrancing.
3. Swallowing during oral sex.

Also note that submission is another tenet of Catholicism, one that she is happy to perform in the context of a sexual encounter.

In many religions, kneeling is a position used for praying and at pews. Socially, it’s a position of submission.

Florence takes the superficial symbology of religious kneeling and applies it to the more concrete submissive kneeling she does for her lover. She’s ready to serve him, whatever in oral sex or something else.

Florence continues her extended metaphor of sex as communion.

“This is his body, this is his blood” is part of the priest’s blessing over the host (the communion bread). The two of them are participating in a sexual communion, sharing their bodies together like two people taking the holy rite. The religious experience of taking communion has been compared to the intimacy of sex, even by devout writers, such as the author of the Song of Songs

Around here, the quality of Florence’s vocal audio shifts to being crackly and old-timey, like music to a silent western film.

Considering Florence’s “chamber soul” style, it’s simply a way of injecting flavor into the track and shake things up for the bridge.

Sex has long been considered both a part of religious experience (specifically in pre-Christian religions) and a method of releasing stress or emotion.

Sad? Go have sex. Stressed? Sex. Sister got stomped on by a mammoth? Sex, but only after you spear that furry monster in revenge.

Cavemen didn’t have confessionals.