If it's fix a fence, Fender dents, I've got lots of experience. Rent gets spent, and all the letters, Never written, that I don't get sent. It comes from confusion; All the things I left undone. It comes from moment to moment, day to day, and time seems to slip away. But I got twenty million things to do, twenty million things. All I can think about is you. With twenty million things, twenty million things to do. I got mysterious wysterias, hanging in the air. The rocking chair I supposed to fix, well it came undid. And the things that I let slip, I found out quick: Comes from moment to moment, day to day, and time seems to slip away. But I got twenty million things to do, twenty million things. All I can do, is think about you. With twenty million, twenty million things to do...