There's paint on a brushnBut waiting is all that you knownThe doors have been locked from the insidenThere's nothing therennThe memory you have of your DadnIs losing you sleepnAs well as your lovers and friends and familynnI don't mindnI don't mindnThe shape of your insidesnThe shape of your insidesnnThe sunlight collides with your wallsnAnd begs you to breathenAnd your mind is in other placesn'til it leavesnnLately your thoughts are as focused nas they'll every benYou're thinking of upside down picturesnAnd symmetrynnI don't mindnI don't mindnThe shape of your insidesnThe shape of your insides