There ain't a whole lot going on
With these thoughts here on their own
Dig deep enough you're bound to find
There's not much to see inside this mind

You might catch my eyes in mid-blur
When the rusty gears start to turn
Not sure what that means in the scheme of things
It might just be the grind that helps me breath  

No there ain't a lot found back to front
Inside this mind, that's going on
How many fingers am I holding up
Table for one, out to lunch

To the party, my thoughts are running late
When they gave the last door prize away
Soon enough you find the well is dry
With the rusty bucket of this mind

It's a hit and miss on the bait and switch
When you have so little to work with
A turn of the cards a toss of the dice
There's not much going on inside this mind