Standing on too few feet in too little soil / On a liquid foundation there's no place to grow / The sun seems more distant, the moon is quite close / I stumble into my room where the air makes me choke / I have never blinked for so long / I wonder which door I chose wrong / Just draw me closer in your picture, and please without those horns / When you finish your next painting I will be standing in it waiting / I have never blinked for so long / I wonder which door I chose wrong.